The restlessness has descended. And, unfortunately, it’s early.
Many friends will tell you that I’m “always” restless, and I would probably be hard-put to argue the point. It’s not entirely true, however. There are times when I am perfectly happy to be at home, planted in my home office during the day and stretched out in the recliner at night.
There are times when the thought of an airplane ride makes me queasy; times when the suitcases are stored away upstairs instead of still open, half-unpacked on the couch. There are times when a really good night is a bowl of Campbell’s Tomato soup and saltine crackers in front of a television playing the newest episode of “Grantchester,” “Endeavor” or “Survivor.”
Come August, however, I always get restless. My husband, who seems to have more outlets for his pent-up energy than I do – and he’s retired! – gets tired of the whining the same way I dreaded the children’s bored cries in days past. “Can’t we DO something?” is a frequent moan.
Unfortunately, I usually have few suggestions for exactly WHAT to do that don’t involve packing a suitcase with no promises of getting him back for golf on the weekend.
I’m sure part of the problem in the early arrival of the restlessness is that I am still not completely off the walker and certainly not healed yet from the broken leg. It irritates me in a way that has little to do with pain. Not only does it hurt and keep me from simply standing up and walking unassisted to the car or the kitchen or up the steps to the bedroom, I have to add the physical therapy sessions to the planning schedule.
Look at my calendar, and you will find some activity or webinar or appointment or work to be accomplished on almost every day. By all appearances, I am VERY busy…
But still restless.
The heat and rain don’t help either. I am very slow getting to the car, and I have been completely drenched several times this week. The heat wave makes even “always cold” me drop any plans of moving to Florida.
I tried to quell the restlessness with a trip to Cade’s Cove Saturday morning, hoping to see bears and deer. Although I got there plenty early to see the animals while it was still the cool of the early morn, my planning was flawed. I forgot the cove is closed to accommodate bikers and hikers until 10 a.m. on Saturdays. I took a side trip to Townsend while I waited and filled up on stuff I shouldn’t be eating at the Apple Valley restaurant and store.
By the time I got to the cove loop, the animals had all retreated to the cool of the forests. I took a picture of a butterfly, which did nothing to cure my restlessness.
I have a big trip coming up in September, and the logical side of me knows that this down time is perfect for healing, re-grouping after the last adventure’s disaster and for getting things done that I don’t necessarily want to do.
A visit to Nashville just might do the trick. Batman, aka King Howell, age 4, is waiting for me there, and there is never a dull moment when Batman’s around…