13 June 2012

Carbondale IL 0 miles (TransAm 1,165)

Another layover day. I write that as if there had been hundreds of layover days, but this is actually only the third day in 25 on the road where the bicycle odometer reads “0.” Gina is insistent that a layover day does not mean a rest day but rather a chore day. I can understand this, after having experienced three months of hanging laundry inside our van as we traveled New Zealand. But now that I’m not there enjoying these layover rest/chore days, I see it from the other side, the one of the But Yeahs. It starts with the But Yeah, at least you’re not working a full-time job. It continues with the But Yeah, at least you get to enjoy being on your bike all day. And it ends with the But Yeah, at least you didn’t have to spend two hours on conference calls listening to someone say “Become the trusted advisor” for the forty-third time. I don’t like being in the But Yeah bag. Send me back to the other side, please.

I imagine a few of the chores on this rest day are the direct result of Gina being, and needing to maintain, her state of Über-organization. This is the woman who would re-pack each and every plastic food bag in the Kiwi campground kitchens multiple times a day, even if the bag hadn’t been touched since its last re-organization. This is the woman who ensures that every pad of paper and set of keys and tube of chapstick is perfectly organized, parallel to the countertop, perpendicular to the sink, and precisely aligned with both Mars and Venus before walking out the front door.

Now I like to think of myself as a fairly well-organized person too, the kind who doesn’t like to live in clutter, the kind who also likes to live with everything in its place. But there is one area in my life in which this tendency falls to pieces: my Box. Gina and I each have a Box. The Box is where one places bits of mail and wallets and sunglasses and those items that one might normally toss upon a countertop but that in our household belong in the Box.

Here’s Gina’s box, exactly as she left it a month ago:

And here’s my box, exactly as it was when she left a month ago:

Shameful, isn’t it? I could use a layover day to clean it up.