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Comfort Zone
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I spend most of my time--virtually all of it--going to and from work. Home to work; work to home. I do the same or similar tasks at work that I've done for the past 3 or 4 years. At home I have the same chores--laundry, meds, cleaning, cooking--that I've had for (mumble, mumble) years. This is my comfort zone and I operate most of the time on auto pilot.

Recently I saw a description in the newspaper of an arts and music festival in a small town north of here. It sounded interesting and I've been itching to do something fun and DIFFERENT.

I took off alone today, headed north, with my mapbook, my jacket and my wallet, on the open road with the sun shining and the birds twittering...you get the idea.

Outside of my comfort zone, I felt shy, unsure of myself. When I had trouble finding the parking area for the festival, I nearly turned around and went home. "Silly," I scolded myself, "you are so used to the familiar routines that you are put off by a little difficulty? Where's the intrepid young woman you used to be?" To my dismay, I found I was reacting with fear and uncertainty in the kind of situation I used to approach with enthusiasm and bravado.

Obviously, I've been in a nice, comfortable, deadly dull rut for far too long. I need to find a way to get a caretaker for my spouse and get out and about again. There's a whole world out there, just waiting for my wonderful self to admire and visit!

P.S. The festival was fun. My feet are tired, I spent too much money, ate greasy food and drank bad coffee and had a great time.

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