Leaving Life’s Complicators
When did things get so complicated? It seems everything has a complicator these days. I’ve resolved to stop shopping online for anything I need to see or touch or try on before I buy. No more shoes or clothes, for sure. Obtaining return authorizations and making trips to return centers is a pain I don’t need.
I find myself lamenting more and more often of the days when a watch was a watch – it didn’t require an owner’s manual to figure out. Wind it up, put it on. Tell the time, maybe even the day and date. One glance tells you everything you need to know.
I don’t need my pulse, my bp, my stress level, how many steps I’ve taken today and how many more this little piece of guilty conscience says I must have before my health goes in the toilet. I just want to know the time.
Same goes with the oven, the refrigerator, cars (criminy those manuals got huge), the TV – all the stuff you used to be able to just push a button or turn a knob, and voila! It did what you wanted. None of this stuff needs a computer to work. In fact, the ones that don’t have those things last longer and can be easily repaired if and when they do break.
And why, pray tell, does everyone need to remind me multiple times that I have an appointment with them? The dentist, the doctor, the hairdresser, the auto service center, the restaurant! For Christ sakes, people, I DO have my shit together! I don’t need multiple reminders on multiple platforms over multiple days to get the message. How many times do I have to tell you – I’ll Be There!
To escape all this, I did something I wish more of my car buddies would make a point of gathering to do with me – go for a nice quick, but leisurely drive through the country to some wonderful destination. Like Alderbrook Resort on Hood Canal. A beautiful, peaceful setting on the beach. Trails, wilderness, beachcombing, golf, spa, food and drink, all nearby or at your doorstep. Lovely. Bucolic. Refreshing. Invigorating. Away from the clutter. Devoid of the complicators.
It was a spur of the moment thing. I imagine a few of my car buddies were perturbed I hadn’t offered more warning. But hey, really? It was a Sunday, not even a workday for those still plodding that path. And those of you who are retired – none of you could break away from whatever it was?
Well, I immensely enjoyed my little four-hour road trip. I stopped, had a wonderful Ahi tuna salad lunch with The Lounge bartender (I was the only one there – we entertained each other), took a stroll along the water and around the campus. Just lovely. Bridge, the bartender (yes, his real name) was very congenial. As conversation progressed, I had to ask how he got his name.
“My parents were hippies,” he said. “And I have two middle names,” he confided, “and a sister named Otter, and a brother named Ryce. That’s supposed to be pronounced Reese, spelled the old Irish way.”
Ah, I see. That brought a nod from me as I related the Welsh/Irish/English names of my own children. But Otter? Actually? Reminded me of Moon Unit, Dweezil and Diva Zappa. Who does that to their kids?
Name calling aside, it was a nice, quiet lunch. After my easy walk, I hopped back in the car for the drive back. Unfortunately, SR106 and SR302 were in my rear view mirror far too quickly, and I was rapidly overwhelmed by numbingly mindless people surrounding me in mind numbing traffic. So much for inspiration. Finding that for a few hours on a Sunday can be a lot to ask. Really, I felt fortunate.
Diving off State Highway 16 and Interstate 5 as soon as was possible, I headed for the backroads and some semblance of a sane balance to the rest of my drive. Making it home in one piece, I reflected on what was a wonderful day. There should be more drives like that. But, given my car groupies don’t generally seem as inclined as I, I suppose most of those will be taken on my own.
There’s good and bad in that. I do enjoy company, but I also enjoy solitude. Guess I’ll just have to find a few more groups to hang out with. See you on down the road.
