I had mixed feelings about the timing of taking a trip just as my income was beginning to spiral down. On one hand I felt like putting the brakes on any extra spending, but I also felt like I wanted to make an act of faith, to somehow affirm that better days were ahead. I didn't want to be ruled by my fear and have it become a self-fulfilling prophecy. I admit I also just wanted to have some fun, especially after having the financial wind knocked from my sails, and feeling the beginnings of a latent despair. I wanted the kind of attitude adjustment I always get from going dancing. Gail and I are dancers, and any Friday night we've felt the magic of music and what it can do for a funky week.
Gail suggested we also take advantage of being away for a while to have the bare sheet rock in our house painted while we were gone. Something about maybe nine years was long enough to wait for paint (the cobbler's own shoes full of holes?), and if we ended up not working but hanging out at home a lot, at least we'd enjoy it more. So, with a destination in mind, and an agenda of sorts, we set about to make it happen. Somehow the decision to go left me feeling more focused, and also more open to change, maybe even a reinvention of my situation. In short, it felt like we'd made the right choice.