I do not like traveling. It stresses me out, I never bring the right stuff, or enough stuff, or not too much stuff. I’m unable to attend to the ongoing and never ending list of projects I keep in the back of my mind and on the back of my hand at home, and that might be the thing I like most about it. Unable to use my woodshed since it’s several hundred miles away, I cannot do my projects, I am required to relax. Or something next to it.

I tried bringing a sewing project on this most recent trip to the Cape and did exactly no stitches. I also brought a book, and I read about 3 pages. There’s still two days left, but I doubt I’ll get more done, but traveling isn’t for getting things done, exactly. Getting anything done other than being someplace that isn’t home.

It’s possible that the 45 minutes of video I’ve recorded and intend to edit into a lil’ home movie defeats my burgeoning goal of doing very little while traveling.

But hey, I am my father’s son.