It’s a New Year, and the perfect time to admit that I am powerless. I think I have hit rock bottom.
But I have given it a lot of thought and decided I don’t want any help. I want to keep on chasing the intoxicating traveler’s high. I can make a three-night trip into a month-long binge of trip preparation pleasure. And there is absolutely nothing I want to do about it.
There is something very captivating and alluring that happens when you move from occasional to frequent traveler. You start getting into predictable and intensely enjoyable patterns of vacation preparation. I can’t stop with the almost continual, methodical planning and daydreaming that get me closer to the pay off of finally walking out my door and beginning the trip.
First I get immense satisfaction during the packing ritual. I binge for a week. Every day at work I fantasize about getting home and looking at my stuff. Do I want to take this, do I want to take that? I put all my possible travel companions in their own area and mull them all over for the next few days. I then start weeding out. I have some favorite things that every time I pack I include because they are my really favorite things. But they always end up staying home.