Was talking to Mister Husband last night. The topic, suggested by me was “let’s do something different, let’s go somewhere we have never gone before.” As opposed to going through the motions, taking the same trip to the same place, doing the same thing, day in and day out…zzzzzz
My first salvo was “let’s go to Berlin!” I just threw it out on the table. It landed on top of my salad and laid there like limp lettuce. Why do I take these huge risks in this dangerous dream sharing business with the hub-man? He is an expert shot. If it sounds even remotely kooky or liberal he’ll shoot it out of the sky like he was the champion at a skeet shooting contest. This is a man who thinks doing anything besides sitting in one’s house listening to FOX news drone on about the end of the world is kooky and liberal.
As expected I got the traditional response. “We can’t afford it.” He’ll say that to any suggestion that is outside his comfort zone. It always makes me want to rip my hair out in chunks and throw it around the room. And I end up asking through gritted teeth “how do you know we can’t afford it? Do you even have an earthly idea how much it might cost?” Would you go even if it were free?
Anyway I kept going. I picked a random far away country out of my hat and said “OK, let’s go to Venezuela.” His response – “they don’t like us.” HUH? Guess what Bubba, read my lips, “I…don’t…care…!!!!” And furthermore, who is the “they” and who is the “us” in this scenario? Have you ever in your entire life met a single human soul from Venezuela?”
“Well their government doesn’t like our government” he replies triumphantly, as if he successfully made his case in court. If we were in the Husband vs Wife discussion court, all that would get him is a salvo of rotten tomatoes. Didn’t impress me much. I don’t like great huge chunks of our government, but that doesn’t mean I hate us Americanos. Phooey, I wouldn’t even be able to talk to myself the mirror anymore. How boring is that?
When I met Mr. Husband he was living in a prison of his own making. Silly me thought that maybe my free-spirited influence would inspire him to make a jail break. What really happened? Over the years I have shut myself in his prison, brick by brick. We have a perfectly comfortable life in our air-conditioned gilded cage. We probably live a lot better than a huge percentage of the population. But we “can’t afford” to break out.
If we travel we must stay in an expensive hotel with the most comfortable bed, and eat only expensive food in the finest restaurants/tourist traps so we can stay fat and happy. What this essentially does is isolate us from everyone except the few who travel the same way. They go somewhere else so they can have the exact same comfort level and cocoon they had at home. Why even travel? It’s better than nothing I guess. But I better not even think about it, because we can’t afford it.
I want to go somewhere so bad that if someone pulled up in front of the house in an old flatbed truck and said “hey I’m going all over, not exactly sure where. We’re gonna sleep under bridges and cook our food on a fire built of wood salvaged from dumpsters, wanna go with?” I’d be out the door in a hot second. I wouldn’t even change out of my pajamas. And probably have the adventure of a lifetime.