Roots

There's a reason I haven't posted lately.

I moved into a townhouse last weekend. I took the plunge and bought a place. I'm sitting in my living room, "borrowing" my neighbor's wifi, listening to my Carpenters' Greatest Hits CD. On the bookshelf across from me sit four prints that I bought in Europe; two in Paris, two in Amsterdam. They make me dream of going back.

This latest event in my life has put my travel plan. Not that I was going anywhere anytime soon, but even thinking about getting away is difficult, what with mortgages to deal with.

Buying a house is a Big Boy Thing. Much like traveling solo to Thailand and Malaysia was a Big Boy Thing. I ask myself, "If I didn't go on the Big Boy Trip, would I have had the courage to risk becoming a homeowner.

Every trip I've taken has stretched me, forced me to think on my feet, pushed me to the physical and mental limit. The homebuying process is no picnic, either. But it felt right. It felt like the next logical step in my life.

I know I'll end up traveling somewhere. You can't kill the travel bug. You can only let it sleep until it wakes up and kicks you in the butt.

(By the way, this doesn't mean this blog is on hiatus. I do have at least three stories left to tell from Thailand. I just need the time and energy to pump them out.)