Travel Travel Travel Travel

Travel Travel Travel Travel

We were walking down a New York street, sipping coffee that had long since cooled. The street smelled a little, because - hey - New York, but the sun was out and the sky was absurdly blue and the air was juuuust chilly enough that we wanted to walk fast, but stay outside until we ducked into the next coffee shop for another work break.

“I wish I had a job where this is what every day looked like,” I complained in my usual light-hearted tone.

“Why don’t we make that happen?” she asked.

And so we did. We still have the same jobs, but after we proved to ourselves this January that we could do the bulk of our work remotely from coffee shops and beach chairs, we have made it a goal to take one trip every month this year.

So far, so good.

January was New York and Cabo.

February was a cruise through the Virgin Islands and a (work) trip to Dallas.

March is Las Vegas (and we’re both on Whole 30 right now, so it’s going to be the tamest Vegas trip ever.)

April I’m going to Chicago. Her trip is TBD.

May is - bank account willing - South Africa.

And hopefully sometime in the late fall we’ll be taking our moms on an Alaskan cruise.

And I’m tired.

My apartment is a wreck. I’ll only half blame the travel on this one, because it’s also partially Kondo. My friends couldn’t stop talking about her and when I finally started watching her show, I couldn’t help picking through my stuff to see which of my possessions were full of joy and which weren’t. I haven’t followed all of her rules, but I have definitely started organizing in her style and have donated my fair share of old stuff in the last couple weeks.

But that’s only half of it. I have gotten into the habit of unpacking my suitcase the night before the next trip, sometimes even leaving my suitcase in front of my door for the first week back. This obviously makes my packing haphazard and my laundry game has plummeted. The pile of dirty clothes finally got overwhelming enough that today I started working my way through washing it. Only to find out that (surprise!) my apartment building has increased laundry costs by fifty cents per machine since I last did laundry! So, like, that’s cool.

On top of that, I know I’m not giving my all to other projects that I’m working on. I’ve barely practiced any of our live stuff for my band and I’ve only written halves of verses and snippets of a chorus or two. I’m barely writing. I’m not seeking out new projects. I have only gotten halfway through creating the props list for the script I got recently, and I have four scripts gathering dust in my inbox that friends wanted me to look through. To say nothing of the fact that I’ve only done one photo shoot and one acting gig so far this year, which is a low-key bummer.

At least I’m on track for my reading goal.

At least everything still get finished on time.

At least the comments I’ve gotten for my writing projects is getting consistently better.

At least I still go to band meetings.

At least I haven’t missed a book club yet.

At least I’m still seeing theater and movies and concerts.

At least I’m continuing to get a decent amount of family and friend time.

So, I guess what I’m saying is this: everything is fine. Everything is working. I just feel out of control and that feeling of being out of control has made me wonder if I should call off the goal.

The goal was not something I thought long and hard about. It was the result of enjoying a city on a gorgeous day and wishing I was less tied to my regular schedule in my regular city.

If my work was something that I could do 100% remotely, I might feel differently, but when there is only a certain set of days in which to check of certain to-dos, there winds up being a really unpleasant sense of urgency to being home. Rather than being able to enjoy my introvert time at my apartment and the time with my friends and family, instead I’m rushing around trying to do the stuff I put on my to-do list a week ago and only have the next week to accomplish.

And I kind of feel like I’m hemorrhaging cash. After all I’m no trust-fund baby or tech-genius or instagram model or whatever other jobs allow people to live on the road. I’m just a normal millennial with a decent job and several side hustles.



The travel is great. I am one of the few people in my state who isn’t sick of winter yet. I haven’t really enjoyed it, but I haven’t built up the rage about the snow and cold yet. It’s kind of beautiful, actually. *cue volley of snowballs in my face*

We’ve sat on beaches on half of our trips and I finally got the tan that I never developed this summer. I went on a cruise for the first time! I tried snorkeling and whale watching and and I’m going ride a horse when we’re in Vegas! It’s only March and I’ve already had so many fun firsts

I’m getting closer to my co-manager by traveling with her. It’s fun to see our friendship develop as we share our travels.

I’m scratching off new locations on my travel map.

I feel cool traveling all the time.

I’m getting a lot of reading in while I’m traveling, and I know can extend that to writing easily.

Long story short: cost-benefit analysis is hard. I think I should scale the trips down a little bit. Even if my life isn’t the chaos that I feel it is, mitigating that feeling is important. Maybe a trip every other month instead of every month? Maybe a couple big trips instead of filling our calendars with quick jaunts to new places.

Staaaaaaay tuuuuuneeeeed.

Morning Routine.

Morning Routine.