For weeks I’ve been restless, grumpy, out of sorts and out of touch. I forgot birthdays; missed appointments; neglected family and friends; slept odd hours of the day and night. I’ve been a lost soul teetering on the edge of a dark abyss.
With little will to cook or clean (40 years of fun has certainly diminished that novelty), home and hearth have been taking a beating, too. On numerous occasions I’ve debated the merits of downsizing with a husband who is hardwired to fix, tinker, and toil when it comes to the projects this aging albatross brings home to the roost.
This aging albatross wants nothing more than to fly the coup (first class would be nice, as long as I’m contemplating my next trip), particularly while I can still fly. Time isn’t exactly on our side now that wakes outnumber weddings when it comes to friends and family.
I accepted the diagnosis with considerable aplomb.
There was a time when I was addicted to caffeine, specifically Coke, as in the sugary, liquid variety that rots your teeth and eats away your innards even as it pads your posterior. If I missed my afternoon fix, a headache would ensue.
I’m also a recovering workaholic (retirement has helped, somewhat). Balance was the bane of my existence while juggling the roles of teacher, mother, cook, housekeeper, chauffeur, cheerleader, tutor, friend and lover simultaneously.
I’m even willing to admit periodic episodes of binge watching when it comes to my favorite shows. I recently joined the throngs of House of Cards fans courtesy of Netflix and watched the first two seasons (26 one-hour episodes in one weekend) of this Emmy-winning political drama. Having relinquished at least half of the aforementioned roles, I have much more time on my hands. Yeah, right!
Minus the 9 to 5 and kids to care for 24-7 (once a mother, always a mother), I do have more time to travel. In fact, I want nothing more than to travel when I'm not home spoiling my grandkids. Therein lies the rub; not the spoiling my grandkids part; the travel part.
The longer I'm home the more restless, grumpy, out of sorts and out of touch I become. I had no idea I was a dromomanic.
Yep, I’m pretty sure I’m suffering from Mad Travelers disease; not to be confused with Mad Cow disease.
My symptoms are all over the Internet. Big Brother is watching. Of course there’s a lot of sharing in the blogosphere, some of the best relative to my latest addiction coming from Nomadic Matt, who is light years ahead of me when it comes to travel and blogging. He’s been a staple in the industry since 2006.
While I return to my funk and mull over the cancellation of our latest travel plans, peruse Matt’s tell-tale signs I posted below. They’re hilarious, and so true. Those signs that fit me to a tee are in bold. If more than half of Matt's signs hit home, contact me and we can meet somewhere between two cities or continents to celebrate living life to the fullest, because in the big picture, I'd much rather obsess about travelling than what's for dinner.
YOU MAY BE A TRAVEL ADDICT IF . . .
You start all your stories with “When I was in…” I try to avoid this catch phrase when I'm blogging.
You only TIVO the travel channel. I rarely have time for TV.
You read guidebooks for fun. Have you heard of Rick Steves?
You plan trips you will never take. Antartica may be out of my reach without funding.
You always ask people “where are you from?” even when you know. Get's people talking.
You wear flip flops in the shower. Ever traveled third world countries?
You take toilet paper everywhere you go out of habit. Ditto third world countries.
You have more than one currency in your wallet, just in case. And when all the currency is gone, there's always Mastercard.
You keep a packed suitcase handy. Does my makeup case count?
Your iPod only has songs related to traveling. Wish I knew where my iPod was.
You run multiple travel websites. Keeping one going is all I can manage.
You speak in airport codes not city names. Not there yet!
You can tell where people have been by the cheesy logos and sayings on their shirts. (Same Same = Thailand, Yellow Star = Vietnam) This appears to be a global phenomenon.
You have elite flier status on multiple airlines. I wish!
You attend travel conferences multiple times a year. Maybe some day.
You don’t have paintings on the wall – you have maps. Maps are all over my dining room table; does that count?
If you haven’t been anywhere in a few months, you get the shakes. Or become restless, grumpy, out of sorts and out of touch.
You spend two hours each day reading travel blogs and travel websites. Sometimes more.
You subscribe to multiple travel magazines. Smithsonian and National Geographic are my favorites.
When you think of prices, you value things in terms of how many days in your next destination it costs. “That TV is 10 days in Paris! Let’s get this one- it’s only 5 days!” I resort to this all the time. Just ask Jimmy.
You pretend you are a travel writer. Ergo, A Place Called Roam.
Some people voted for Barack Obama, you voted for Anthony Bourdain. Actually, I was travelling in Europe during the last election and forgot to take care of my civic duty.
When people ask you about your hobbies, all your answers contain the word “travel.” I'm very focused, especially when it comes to travel pictures.
Some people cry when they leave home. You cry when you have to go back. And if I'm not crying, I'm on my way to being restless, grumpy, out of sorts and out of touch.
When people ask you your profession, you say vagabond. Or nomad or world traveler or simply confess to being a lost soul.
You filled your first passport before the first year was over. Not that lucky!
Boots N All is your homepage. I know a few that come close to that moniker.
You have trips planned for next decade. Anything beyond the next decade may be wishful thinking.
You have Lonely Planet tattooed on your lower back. Now there's a thought.
You write a travel addict post. With a little help. Thanks Matt.
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