I'm not a princess. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not.

Michael and I cruised our 40' sailboat, then cruised our 48' sailboat, for most of the years we've been married. And traveled. A lot. We've had 28 years of adventure.

But there was a reason we quit cruising.
And starting staying at more upscale hotels. Ones with big, comfortable beds.
And bought an almost hermetically sealed condo.

I'm no longer as willing to be uncomfortable. I've paid my dues.

Asphalt sealer on the bike trail. Or a sign?

In hindsight, living so many years in an agricultural village on the Pacific Coast of Mexico probably sealed the deal. I told Michael early on that if I ever left rural Mexico, it was because the scorpions and the other stingy, bitey, annoying bugs would drive me out. I knew we were outnumbered, but it's the price of living close to the land in a tropical climate.

Moving to our family's 100-year-old summer cottage in Upstate New York was leagues better. But some days we would get a hatch of centipedes in the living room, or hordes of black flies or moths that would simply appear in the hundreds on the porch. Nothing to hurt us but definitely annoying. Or going to sleep at night in the upstairs bedroom and hearing squirrels racing on their autobahn above our heads in the ceiling.

Yesterday I hit my wall. I was done with inconvenience. I was done with discomfort. I wanted to scream when I opened the fridge and the tomatoes burst out of its container and on to the floor. Getting to the showers in the campground and forgetting my towel. Hitting my head for the thousandth time in the trailer, outside at the table, around the outside of the truck. Because my spaces are never routine.

I sat and smoldered in the truck for most of the day while we drove through Nebraska, knowing that nothing I could say would be helpful or kind. Or solvable. My silence was deafening. To both of us.

By evening I told Michael I was ready to talk. And we gently pulled apart what was bothering me, and how we might approach the rest of the trip (without me hopping on the next flight out of Omaha). A lot of the solutions are simple. How much to drive. How long to stop. Where to stay. How much to explore. How to make the bed more comfortable. How we could bring
the fun factor back up to the top of the list.

I'm delighted to find that today I'm back on track, ready to see what the next adventure brings us. We have a plan, I have more patience, and I married exactly the right guy who understands my need for adventure, but also sees my growing intolerance for discomfort.

As I said, I'm not a princess. I'm not. I'm not.