We’ve all had the experience of forgetting what day it is. Usually we are one day off. We lose a day because we’ve focused on something to the point of distraction. Or gain a day by hurrying along some coming event. But today I realized I couldn’t guess the day within two days–and there is a very pleasant otherworldly quality to that. I hope it states how completely I’ve escaped to Life on the Road.
I do have things to do. I left the Bay Area with a list of projects and tasks long enough to hang a week’s wash on.
I got tired of culling and deciding how much of what was necessary. I know that I left with too many tools, clothes, office supplies, can of soups, and half-pints of blueberry yogurt. There are boxes of unsorted papers, chachkas, and other trivia that need my hands to feel and heft and decide to keep or not, and where to stow.
I have sorted through, donated, and dumpsters so much stuff in the last few months I have come to regard household closets and cabinets as the battlefield of the War Against Stuff. Stuff is taking over the earth.
Today on Day 10 of the Year on the Road I am visiting my friend, Ron, near Tacoma. He is a disciplined and opinionated. He made me sprawl my mishigas of tools out in his driveway. Then to get rid of the second dozen screwdrivers, spare electric drill, and socket wrenches, my #16 grit sanding discs, and hardware for racing sailboats. I also discovered I was missing a few critical tools.
Ron wants to confront and consolidate my several medical kits leftover from home, office, camp supplies, and road emergency kits. My excesses of clothes and linens are well-hidden for me to sort through another time. It is not that I don’t realize I am over-stocked, just that I want to make my choices in a more leisurely fashion and after a little time on the road to get a sense of what I really need. What set of tux accessories will fit my mood on the next tuxedo occasion? The traditional black? The maroon of my high school colors? Or the red fashion statement of Valentine’s Day? Thus continue the agonies and nostalgia pauses of simplification and letting go.
I have a new set of routines that take a bite out of the day. Monitor the propane tank, the water tanks (clear, gray, and black). There is regular communion with my travel guides, maps, and visits to Internet sites for diesel prices, dump stations, campgrounds, and w-fi hot spots. The last is not so important because of the hot spot feature of my new Droid.
And the routine I’ve missed the most: the 30-day drought in blog postings. Today is the first day back to what I intend to be a metabolic regularity.
From captain’s seat about the Jolly Swag at mile 720 from the Year’s starting point.