Why do we make our lives soo much more complicated than they need to be? I’ve been trying to plan a road trip for next summer. Should be easy, right? In principle, anyway: a bike, some money, spare clothes, full tank, maybe even a phrase book and off I go… Or not.
Because EU passport or not, I’ve still got to think about routes, mileage, daily coverage, ferry schedules, ferry bookings, EU regulations, and the list never gets any shorter. We, as a society, have now made even the simplest trip incredibly complicated. This is, granted, compounded by living on an island. First thing to do is to get off the island and that automatically means a wrestle with means of transport, schedules, prices and arcane bookings interfaces.
I’m looking at 4000 miles of beautiful roads, and all I can do is get bogged down in the details of how far, how long, how much, how many.
My head is swimming with lists of things to organise, things to do, to book, to pay for. I’m starting to look forward to this trip because once it starts the logistical nightmare of organising it all will be over. And I can, to an extent, relax.
You’d never think, given the chaos in my brain over all of this, that logistics is a large part of what I do for a living. It’s mildly laughable how much more organised I am for work than in my own life, but that could well be because I spend most of my day organising work, and don’t really have much time left to organise my own life.
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