Buckets of Drag

It's my last day in Panama.

Two days before I left DC to come here, I called Kacie and asked, "Is this the worst idea ever?" Because when something seems too good to be true, it usually is. Should I really be taking off for paradise instead of sticking around in DC, getting a paying job, and not spending money on plane tickets all over the damn place?

And Kacie basically said, "WHAT, ARE YOU CRAZY?"

Which is why is I keep her around.

Coming to Panama has been life-reboot and DC-detox in the extreme. In case anyone has forgotten or wasn't paying attention: I hate DC. But living here reminded me that, yes, I am capable of liking where I live, and that where you live actually does kind of matter. That yes, I have creative impulses, and no, I don't need to buy things all day long to feel good about my life. These are things I always know in my brain, but that get drown out by noise and politics. Noise and politics. Noise and politics. Noise and politics.

Under normal circumstances, I would be so excited about the next three weeks. I get two weeks in Colorado--a rare event these days--and then: PERU, which has been a life-long dream. And it seems like we're checkin' it off like it ain't no thang. It is un.be.liev.able.

But I know that DC is waiting for me when it's over. Which is buckets of drag.

I've been really happy in Panama, living simply (I use a coffee mug for a measuring cup! I've gotten three pieces of mail in two whole months and they were from real humans!), and I re-learned that it doesn't take a lot to make me happy, but it doesn't take much to make me miserable either.

I'm just terrible at goodbyes.