“Yes, I’m still going.”

My next door neighbor/associate ruler in the all-too-familiar dystopian political entity that is a condo association/closest quarantine friend and I locked eyes just a little too long in one of those silences louder than words as we performed an autopsy on a doorknob at least a hundred years old.

Of course you’re still going, her eyes said. You’re Beth, you wander.

I’d like to say I have no qualms about driving across the country in the middle of a global pandemic at the beginning of what may be a Civil War, but I can’t. I’m appropriately nervous and concerned, but not terrified enough to cancel my trip. In 36 hours, I will begin my trek from Philadelphia, PA to Los Angeles, CA. I will traverse the continent in my small SUV in six days, mostly through red states. This is important to note because, as of this writing, Pennsylvania still has not counted all votes. Currently Trump is leading. My hope is that this will not remain the case.

I decided to take this trip about two months ago when the world was a much different place. The virus seemed to be under control. Everyone I knew in my liberal bubble seemed certain that Biden would win the election by a landslide. For me, it was finally sinking in that no one expected to see me in the office again, ever. My job could be done completely remote, opening up a whole new lifestyle of extended travel and exploration…once the borders open.

In my pre-Covid life, I traveled at least once a month. In my prior job, which I held for my entire adult life until two years ago as what was essentially a traveling salesperson for higher education, I spent more nights away from home than I did in my own bed. Facebook Memories reminds me that On This Day eleven years ago, I had remarked that in the past week, I slept in six different beds in five different states in two different time zones. Ah, the good old days.

For the past two years I focused on traveling for fun rather than traveling for business. Guess what. It didn’t suck These days, my only time away from my home has been twice two nights at the Jersey shore and two nights with my parents after we were all Covid tested and cleared of suspicion. “You’re always up to something!” my mother always said. “You can’t sit still. You’ve got ants in your pants!”

Like many of you, to say I have ants in my pants is an understatement.