Now though I'm about to do something with my life. I am driving cross country and I am leaving on Monday. It's got me completely freaked out. I'm most worried that I'm going to be exhausted, wimp out and want to come home. I've been bumming around so long that the idea of actually venturing out of the apartment is a big deal. When I quit my job I told them I was leaving to travel. Really I just wanted out of the job. Five years was too long to stay there and I didn't think I could last another minute. I had started slacking off to such an degree that I was really prompted to quit when I was told I had to go through a semi-annual performance review. Instead of hearing about how I was late everyday (which I was), I walked in and gave notice. The two months I stayed to finish out were torture. I could talk a big game though. When causally asked why I was leaving, I would tell of the world travels I was going to take: Argentina to learn Spanish, a cruise of Alaska with my sister and the kids, even heading to the South Pacific and Asia once I was comfortable enough on the road. But none of that happened. Instead I stayed home, slept and watched an unfortunate amount of television.
Butterball is to blame. At least he's my excuse. Finding a home for an adult cat is practically impossible. I should have known, I've tried it before. When my mother died she had four animals: two cats and two dogs. The dogs were split between me and my sister, but the cats were a real issue. If you don't have cats, here's something you need to learn; two strange adult cats do not live together well. And two cats fighting is a disaster. Eventually we got the cats resituated, but Butterball is my baby and it is hard to even think about giving him away. But who wants to babysit a cat for a year? No one. People who like cats usually already have one. People who don't like cats are always allergic to them. Always.
Then a remarkable thing happened. My cousin Cole quit her job in L.A. and decided to move to New York. God bless the bitch that is New York real estate. Without a job, finding an apartment here is nearly impossible. I've seen new arrivals to the city burst into tears when faced with the realities of what they can afford and the ridiculous hoops that they have to go jump through to get even a terrible apartment. When I offered to let her stay in my apartment for the low, low price of midnight snuggling, and the occasional litter box change, she jumped at the chance. "Go off and have your adventure. Take as long as you want," she texted. This was music to my ears.
Then the panic started. Now I have lost my excuse. No more Law & Order episodes crammed in between naptimes. I am going to do this. I going to leave the comfort of my home and my friends and my cat, and go on an adventure. Yikes. Here's what else I'm worried about: being raped and murdered, flat tires, laundry, dining alone in a restaurant, being cold and not having the right coat, eating only junk food that I buy in gas stations, the amount of money I am going to spend, being bored, being lonely, and not having the right shoes. That's the abbreviated list. So instead of packing and getting ready to confront or solve some of these problems, I'm procrastinating. The bath is over and the movie is done, so I decided to start this blog... the plan is to keep posting while on the road. It's how you'll know that I haven't been raped and murdered. If I'm having fun or adventures, you'll see that too. Or not.
At least one of these worried as been put to rest. Crissy insists, "Bring all your shoes!"
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