A sinus infection laid me low without my even noticing it. I’m the sort that blames every scratchy throat or fuzzy headache on allergies, or a passing cold. Before I know it, three weeks pass and I’m sitting in the doctor’s office, the nurse gasping at my 104º temperature. I had no idea I even had a fever.
The week before, I alternated between the sun, the water, the shade, and 27 mile bike rides with my father. Uphill both ways, as they say.
Before that, I was in New York City, head tilted back and marveling at the fireworks, Amazing Grace on my lips.
The New York trip was a complete spur of the moment impulse. A new friend invited me. The next day I bought my ticket. Two days later, I was on the bus – Burlington to Manhattan. What a change that was.
But what a change it wasn’t. Maybe my head was already thick with the infection I wouldn’t notice for two more weeks, but the process of arriving in the city made me calm. Usually not a fan of cities, I felt relaxed and comfortable.
I love traveling.
But even more so, I love being impulsive.
This is a trait I’ve worked quite hard to quell through random acts of mindfulness, repetition, and routine. I’ve been so “good.” So “steady.” This is all well and good when it comes to major decisions. Job changing. Job searching. Roommate-picking. Interpersonal relationships. But, gosh is it dull!
I love the moment when a metaphorical button is pressed, and before I know it the words are falling out of my mouth. “Yes. I am going to do that. I am going to do that right now. If you’d like to come along, great. But I’m not waiting anymore. I’m going.”
Reminds me of the “Let’s do that” Subaru commercials that were all over the Tour de France coverage.
C’mon. Let’s do that.
Sidecountry Living 