I pushed my coffee cup to the side and opened my laptop. Fifteen Word docs open. My God, Kara. Finish a thought why don’t you.
I’m currently sitting on a flight to Nashville. It is FREEZING in the cabin. Time will tell if I packed a single pair of socks. I don’t understand why flight attendants still put ice in orange juice. What else do I have to tell you…oh. I demolished an entire bag of Trader Joes plantain chips while sitting at the gate.
I’m taking a vacation. I haven’t taken a vacation in forever.
I take trips. Trips to see my family. Trips to weddings. Trips because it’s a national holiday. Trips so short I’m back before my groceries spoil.
This is not a trip. This is a week-long stay with my college friend Danika, with no expectations, no itineraries, and no prior plans.
I’m really weird about travel, actually. It makes me super antsy. If I’m outside my routine (where I can work out at my own gym, cook in my own kitchen, and carve out time at my coffee shop) for more than forty-eight hours, I think the world is ending.
Because trips make you feel really shitty, do they not??
I mean here we are, going away for a week or weekend supposedly to revive and replenish, and we come back feeling ten times worse than we did upon departure. I mean come ON people—tell me I’m wrong.
We go away and get shitfaced, eat shit, don’t work out (or half-ass workouts), and return feeling like complete and utter shit.
Shit shit shit.
I really don’t want that for myself. If there’s one goal—that sounds weird, to correlate a goal with a vacation—I have for the next week, it’s to come back feeling better than when I left.
Here’s my plan to not feel like crap: Working out. Typing in coffee shops. Cooking awesome food. Walking around.
THAT’S WHAT YOU WANT? You took a FLIGHT to do THAT? That’s LITERALLY what you do every day in DC!
I know. And I fucking love it.
First of all, it’s not like I’m touring Florence, Italy over here. I’m going to NASHVILLE. I am already being told to put my tray table up.
Secondly, the past few years taught me a lot about what I love and what I hate. I love getting smashed as much as the next person, but sometimes I would so much rather just sit on my friend’s roof than get drinks poured on me at a bar. I LOVE going to coffee shops. I LOVE waking up crazy early each morning. I consider workouts a time to catch-up with friends.
And yes, I am fully aware that if I were typing up my Bumble profile here I’d sound like a complete and utter LOSER, but these are the things I genuinely ENJOY.
If you love it, it’s important.
One time I was telling my friend Keena how much I LOVE waking up early Saturday mornings. I loved the feeling of being awake before the rest of the world and the first one seated at a coffee shop.
This was her response:
“YEA? Well I LOVE LAYING IN BED. I absolutely LOVE laying in bed and Facetiming my mom. And because I LOVE LAYING IN BED, then LAYING IN BED IS IMPORTANT.”
Yes, mam. You are 100% correct. If you love something, then therefore it is important.
And if I love something, it is worth taking a vacation for.
I am thrilled about my week. I’m fucking ECSTATIC over here thinking about doing all the things I would be doing anyway.
I’ll keep you all posted.