For the last several months, I’ve been on a travel binge. Growing up, my mom always told me she hopes I dance. (Yes, she’s referencing the Lee Ann Womack song). So I like to say I’ve been dancing. Figuratively, obviously. No one wants to see me actually dancing.
Several of my trips have been planned—Copenhagen and Holland—but others have been friends inviting me and me saying, “Oh, I’ll see,” “I can’t afford that,” “I really should do my dissertation,” etc. But then, six days before (or less), I realize life is about experiences and moments and “I guess I’ll buy those bus tickets to New York City.”
(My bank account doesn’t call any of this traveling dancing either. It calls it spending money, but that’s neither here nor there. Amirite?)Read More