Wednesday, September 28

the art of not being bothered does not begin at home




A few weeks ago when we were at the cabin, I wasn't worrying about keeping things 'my way.' There was a lot of exposed wiring and some of the chinks had fallen out of the log walls, and I had to climb on the roof to cover the chimney so the mosquitos wouldn't come down it at night. In the mornings sometimes we could tell the mice had been on the counters, there were pine needles in the bed, and the blankets smelled somewhat like mothballs. We washed the dishes in a dishpan, and the shower, though warm, was not luxurious, and had to last under five minutes or something would burst. The tap water came straight out of the lake so we bought all our drinking water in town.


None of this really bothered me.


At home, it would bother me.


This is why I travel.





*