Just Visiting

I’m not much of a road warrior and those familiar with my habits and the writings of Rex Stout are likely to identify me with a certain sedentary detective whom is no more likely to skip a meal than he is to miss an appointment with orchids.  He would say that if an eccentricity is easily foregone simply out of convenience it becomes mere petulance.

It’s hard for me to say which is less desirable, to be visited and suffer the preparations necessary to ensure the happiness of the guest, or to visit and subject to the whims and vagaries of one’s host.

In any event while some may call it flexibility and adaptation in tones of admiration, I’ve never been attracted to novelty for it’s own sake.  Having determined the best course, why would one pursue any other?

Yet there are obligations to friends and family whom seem anxious for the amusement I provide and having delayed and temporized as long as decently possible I find myself removed from my customary haunts and activities.

In short, on vacation.

Now for me, it’s not so bad.  I see interesting things, I have entertaining conversations, I eat differently and well in new and exciting places.  Still my routine is under suspension and my work desultory at best and non-existent at irregular and unpredictable intervals.

I delude myself that among my dozens of readers there are a few who have been puzzled by this phenomena and that is your explanation.