Why I don’t like to travel

I’m not overly fond of traveling, unlike many people. I usually manage to enjoy it when I do, but it’s not something I anticipate with great glee. Here’s why:
  • Sleeping in strange beds is a challenge, at least until I get used to them. The mattress isn’t the degree of firmness I’m accustomed to, the pillows are weird, and the bedclothes don’t feel right.
  • No cats sharing the bed/snoring nearby on the floor/snuggling on the sofa with me. Oh, sometimes that’s not the case, but only when I visit the right friends.
  • Public restrooms, especially in rest areas, suck. And ya gotta use them.
  • Driving distances is very tiring, mostly because I stiffen up when I sit in the same position for too long. Plus I have occasional sciatica. Try driving with THAT pain.
  • Finding decent coffee is a challenge. No, don’t suggest that there is a Starbuck’s on every corner in America. I am not THAT fond of Starbuck’s coffee. It’s better than some, but there’s a lot out there that is MUCH better.
  • If my husband isn’t traveling with me, I feel very unsettled. We are just too much a part of each other to be completely comfortable apart.
And yet here I am off to Greenville in the morning, by myself until I get there. I plan to go to the computer forensics workshop at the conference, then meet up with Dee and play all afternoon. I may even skip the conference banquet — I am not exactly fond of LCD banquet food. I think we can do better on our own. Then on Saturday I’ll shepherd the programming team, BS my way through a panel discussion, schmooze at lunch since I won’t really be able to avoid it, find out how my team did, and GET THE HELL BACK HOME to my spouse, my own bed, and my kittehs.