Cedar Springs, Michigan.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
According to Wikipedia, that fount of real and unreal knowledge, in modern colloquial parlance "limbo" is "any status where a person or project is held up, and nothing can be done until another action happens."
Today I called T.A.T. Automotive in Hempstead, Texas. Brittany, the girl who answered the phone, told me they hadn't looked at the motor home yet, but they might get to it today. Okay. That's about what I expected. I'll call again tomorrow. And tomorrow and tomorrow.
This uncontrollable interruption of the walk is perversely invigorating. I'm ready to go back and have at Texas--to conquer it in spite of its attempt to slow me down. That last statement partakes of what John Ruskin termed the "pathetic fallacy"--the attribution of human characteristics or motives to inanimate objects. Texas, that vast and inanimate object.
Sitting in my living room recliner, relaxing and watching reruns of I Dream of Jeannie, I realize I'm doing what I longed to do the whole time I was busy walking. Both versions of existence are rather simple and not quite as much fun as they promise to be when I'm not doing them. Here at home I get up, eat, watch TV, write, go out, read, and sleep. Down there I get up, eat, walk, write, read, watch TV, and sleep. My life might be written around the perimeter of a Robert Indiana painting. Or in a Warhol print, repeated endlessly, in slightly different colors each day.
It's amazing how quickly I've gotten used to doing nothing instead of something. Almost as quickly, I'll get used to doing something again. It makes me wonder what the real difference is between something and nothing.