Planning

I’m gearing up to go to Michigan. My trip this holiday will mark just the second time I have returned to my home state since moving to Iowa at the end of January. Anytime I do something without my wife — which, admittedly, is rare — I come to realize how much I rely on her to plan things.

Never mind that she took the time to compare the cost of about dozen different travel methods, she also booked my flight. As a grownup, it’s sobering when you realize how much you don’t do for yourself. This always comes into crisp focus when people begin asking me questions about my ensuing trip.

“So, who’s picking you up from the airport?”

“Uhh … I don’t know. I’m sure somebody will.”

“Are you coming here in like a week? You don’t have that planned yet?”

“Nope.”

In essence, I don’t plan anything. People have asked what my plans are and I tell them I don’t have any. That’s because there are so many people to see that I can’t prioritize things. I prefer simply to fly by the seat of my pants, which suites me.

That said, there is a certain lack of self-realization in living this way. But it can also be liberating. I don’t have to commit to anything I don’t want to do. My mom’s mom gives everyone stress-induced heart palpitations when she visits with her incessant worrying about schedule.

She never takes time to enjoy herself. She’s like a shark. She has to keep moving less she not get it all done. I could never enjoy myself like that, and it makes avoid her company as a result.

So when I think about my plans while I am in Kalamazoo, I try to keep them simple. My plan is to have fun and see the people whose company I enjoy. That’s it. Nothing more. Nothing less.

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