I sat down here at the computer a while ago, determined to look up the route for my potential trip this summer. I had also been looking at it last week and the week before, trying to imagine myself traveling along that blue line on the computer screen, my car a little blinking light inching along toward the goal. The computer offered me two routes for the beginning of the trip, both of which wound up merging eventually, and the last of the route passed right past my sister-in-law’s house where I would love to stop and visit. Yay! But the two early routes caused me stress of a sort. Should I try to camp along the way? If so where, and for how long? And what wonderful sights might I miss, just a little way off of that blue line? Or should I keep on moving, enjoy the one visit, but get to my destination first and figure out where else I might like to go from there?
I do realize how lucky I am that these are the things causing me stress in my old age. Not really problems, just my overactive brain. So today I saw some mention of up-tics in the number of COVID-19 cases and I decided that the smart thing to do would be to check the quarantine rules for the states I’d be traveling through. A heads-up for myself seemed like a good idea. Paper and pen at the ready I started up the computer and asked for the route for probably the 10th time, and this time it gave me an entirely different route. And one route only. No options. Almost from the minute I leave home it had me on different roads. And this route has me bypassing the entire state where my SIL lives. Does it know something? Did it get tired of showing me the same old options, thought it would liven things up?
This sort of thing makes me nuts. There is a comfort in thinking that there is only one way to do things. One route to follow. If you stay on the path, follow the rules, then nothing bad can happen. It’s probably pathetic that I still think that way after all these years, but I do. It’s gotten me this far…
A Snowbird's Life Through the Lens 