a trip to south GA...

... when I accidently found myself with two days off work. I had not been to V. or Q'town in weeks, probably back in November, due to the profoundly random schedule of my jobette. For some unknown reason, it is generally every other day. Occasionally two days in a row, but mostly alternate days which has limited my travels dramatically.

Which I have begun to describe as similar to a heavy duty rubber band. Or bungee cord. You can stretch it out a pretty good way, but at a certain point, you will reach the maximum, and it will desire to regain the original size. I can only get to a certain point in my travels, a given distance from the workplace/home, before the rubber band pulls me back to the starting point. Which means 'x' amount of time before I know I need to be back: at the starting gate, ready to do the job at hand.

Sadly, I conclude it is too difficult to make a long drive and be back in only one day. Things my former, younger self would do without hesitation, or second thought give me pause as my parts age. It is both a good and sad thing to have to make that 'is it worth it' decision - good to have to foresight to realize there are times that it is not a smart move. And times that I will make the occasional ill-advised trip though it will induce a localized form of 'jet lag' with extended recovery time.

I remember driving to Savannah once, many years ago, to pick up a friend who was visiting there, drive her to her home in south GA, and complete the circle before bed time. I think I was probably on the road for twelve hours. And like numerous other poorly thought-through  decisions, it was educational.  I learned: don't do that again.

And there was that time I loaded daughters up and drove all night to Key West. It was probably during that era of me spending much of my time propping up parents, as they struggled with aging and poor health. Desperately missing my 'other life', the normalcy of being a mom. They were old enough to help with the driving, so it was not a bad trip, but that many hours in the car, determined to get there, make for physical misery. I recall us enjoying strawberry margaritas at Jimmy Buffet's place, and time wandering the streets, on the beach. Leading the underage astray. With forethought and good cheer. And driving north in the dark in a driving rainstorm, that might have been part of a hurricane: one of the daily hazards of living in south Florida.