I am now officially scheduled to get moved out of my apartment at the end of the month. After a visit home for about a week and a half, then it’ll be time to drive across the country and learn more about if I can still move back to my target city (in the current world of Covid getting worse again).
Assuming that the country doesn’t shut down more again before then. But I’m trying to stay optimistic.
I actually prefer the journey more than getting to the destination. Because as I’ve mentioned before here, staying at hotels while you travel alone is my favorite escape from life. Your troubles seem to cease being relevant for a short time, because you feel less obliged about fixing your life (when it’s not possible to do much about them from a distant hotel room).
The little things about getting to my hotel’s town for the night give me the small joys that life often doesn’t:
Seeing what options there are for dinner. Bringing some snacks, a small pint of milk, a 20 oz drink back to the room too. Turning on the TV and finding Jeopardy or a game later on (well, back when we had sports before the last four months eh). Seeing the different local channels that you never have before. Laying there in the dark and soaking it all in.
As it feels like the universe has stopped functioning around you for the next 12 or 18 hours. Just you and your temporary shelter off the beaten path.
It’s all a much-needed relaxing tonic.
Before the difficulties of returning back to the real world.
Mister A's domain 