I love to travel.
I’m happy just contemplating “where to go next.” I’ve written, refined, and reconsidered enough itineraries to carry us well into our dotage and beyond. I have lists—actually, lists of lists—of places to visit, things to do, experiences to have. I’ve defined goals: traveling to all seven continents, all fifty of the United States, and at least one hundred independent countries. I’ve built “roadmaps” and devised “contingency plans” to accomplish these objectives. Hell, I even have spreadsheets to keep track of our progress!
Yet after a trip is booked, I’m peculiar in that I tend to become somewhat indifferent—even unenthusiastic—until the journey begins. Once we’re off, my zeal immediately returns. But, until then I’m prone to a profound sense of “whatever-ness.” Last year was a notable exception. I’m not sure why. Perhaps it was due to the romantic and (for us) novel notion of being at sea cruising around Europe? Maybe it was the prospect of three weeks of utterly extravagant, blissful idleness?
This year, I’ve been resolutely back in the doldrums.
But, I’m slowly starting to feel the trade winds picking up.
I’m happy just contemplating “where to go next.” I’ve written, refined, and reconsidered enough itineraries to carry us well into our dotage and beyond. I have lists—actually, lists of lists—of places to visit, things to do, experiences to have. I’ve defined goals: traveling to all seven continents, all fifty of the United States, and at least one hundred independent countries. I’ve built “roadmaps” and devised “contingency plans” to accomplish these objectives. Hell, I even have spreadsheets to keep track of our progress!
Yet after a trip is booked, I’m peculiar in that I tend to become somewhat indifferent—even unenthusiastic—until the journey begins. Once we’re off, my zeal immediately returns. But, until then I’m prone to a profound sense of “whatever-ness.” Last year was a notable exception. I’m not sure why. Perhaps it was due to the romantic and (for us) novel notion of being at sea cruising around Europe? Maybe it was the prospect of three weeks of utterly extravagant, blissful idleness?
This year, I’ve been resolutely back in the doldrums.
But, I’m slowly starting to feel the trade winds picking up.
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