Planes, my experience tells me, are bad for people. Not the elevation to impossible heights, not being moved from one place to an unwalkably far away one. No, it’s the darned air in those things that utterly vanquishes me.
I don’t know if it’s that they don’t circulate it enough, or people are just poxy, but the last few times I’ve made trans-Atlantic flights, I’ve wound up losing my first few days in Canada to a cold. I drag myself to work, then drag my carcass home (my friend Lisa‘s home) to collapse and sleep like Tutankhamen.
This time I want it to be different. I’ve got my ginseng, vitamin C, and echinacea, and I’m dosing myself in advance. Do you have a favourite preventative? Please tell me!
Yeah, I’m writing a novel about climate change, and I’m flying overseas. The irony is not lost on me. I’ve bought carbon credits, but I know that’s lame. I’m not sure how to do this one.
~
I don’t want anything for Christmas. I don’t know who said it, but this expression sums up my feeling: “I want for nothing. I need nothing. I am complete.”
No malls, no trying to buy everyone the same amount, no $CDN bargains. I want to come back lighter, uplifted even, not heavier.
I’ve got a lot of great people in my life, and that’s what I’ll be celebrating in a thing-less way at the end of this year. If you’re reading this, thanks for being part of my tribe.
<
p>
