I keep waiting for adventures. Someday, something great will happen and I’ll have a great post to write.
It’ll be a perfect day for doing stuff. Everything will align with the stars. I’ll grab that perfect exotic bite.
Jumping off the mountains singing with birds. Crossing great oceans swimming with dolphins.
Living like a nomad with no destination. It’ll all be so glorious, even the stale rice and beans.
But all that fun, all those stories, just that. Stories. Waiting instead of making. Busy, not free.
The least I could do is get out for a day. Forget the troubles, embrace the world, or just climb a tree.