Life can churn steadily along, where you have all your ducks in a row and you get to work on time and get through your day successfully and look forward to your evening and maybe some tv while you relax, and perhaps make plans for the weekend that might even involve seeing people and it feels … comfortable. Other times it may seem like somebody charged up the crazy machine and you rush about trying to extinguish fires here and there while wondering when you will ever have to time to go food shopping much less get your oil changed and if you bounce one more check you are resigning from life.
Then, there is the retreat.
That’s what I had this past weekend. It’s my annual girls’ weekend away (which I’ve discussed here and here if you want to re-read it) and life just didn’t contain its usual slots of predictability. Where should we have lunch? Who cares? Close by or far away? Is your tummy rumbling right now? Are you salivating? Hey, that place looks good. (This is called winging it. It is best if you’re not the fussy type.) Need to buy something specific? Just looking? Have we ever entered that store before? Do we want to? What the heck, it’s a whole four degrees outside and one of us can’t feel her nose anymore so let’s duck in. Oh, my, is that an entire WALL of sweaters marked $9.99? Why haven’t we ever come in here before? What time is it? Who cares?
Add to that some lovely time with lovely people, jokes and laughs and an unusual game that involves some drawing and realizing that people you really like are even funnier when you play a game and you learn things like some people believe bees have whiskers. Or need their glasses checked.
It’s a terrific escape from the routine and schedule of life, and even though I thrive on routine most of the time, stepping out of the ordinary is a true jump-start to appreciation. Bringing home the annual twenty pounds of Amish bacon helps, too.