Only the wisest and stupidest of men never change.
I wonder sometimes if I might have been a cat in a past life. Milk is not kind to my system, and I like to think about adventure, but the idea of change makes me edgy.
I’m soon to depart for
where I’ll be visiting my two partners in crime golf. This will be my
first sleep-over at their houses, which is thought-provoking enough, but it’s
also complicated by the fact that I’m leaving Massachusetts,
home of all-encompassing sweaters and going to a land where everyone is
frolicking in t-shirts. You see, like 75% of us in the north, I’m carrying
around the traditional Holiday Heft – those six pounds you didn’t realize were
there until you have to unbutton your jeans to watch TV comfortably on the
You can imagine my delight when my friends apologetically emailed me that the weather is cooler than usual and I’d need to bring perhaps a sweatshirt and jeans.
As far as my concerns with change, I’ll be leaving behind my own pillow and routine. Of course, this same routine is the one that triggers my cabin fever and has me thumbing through those Viking River Cruise flyers that arrive every other day in our mailbox.