boo and i were supposed to travel this weekend — me for work, him for the food that i take with me. but we both woke up on friday morning feverish and wet with our chilled sweat, so we stayed put.

friday afternoon, as i snuggled more deeply into my coverlet and sipped my chest-warming tea, i thought a bit about my disappointment at not traveling. i was reminded of my disappointment over thanksgiving, when we were staying very near but not quite in Big Luscious City, and i wanted so badly to actually get into BLC, and couldn’t believe, when it came down to it, that i’d traveled all that way and come so close but wasn’t actually getting my urban fix.

and i thought about Good-sized Hip City (where boo and i were supposed to be this weekend) and contemplated the way i’d complicated my travel plans precisely so that boo and i could have an extra day to ourselves in GHC to walk, to eat, to shop…just to be, in an urban sort of way. and while i was thinking about how let down i felt, how disappointed i was not to be getting a taste of GHC — a city i often wish i lived in — i wondered if my feelings revealed a provincial streak. i mean, if i were truly urban, truly a world-traveler, wouldn’t i just flit in and out of cities without so much anxiety? without feeling like i need to see them? isn’t my desire to experience them just a little bit more a bit of a small-town desire?

i guess i’m more provincial than i even care to know.

gonna have to work on that.