Recklessly Responsible

I’m in the lazy river period of my life; I barely need to flick a finger to steer myself on track. No whitewater rapids. No sudden drops or jagged rocks. Just sit back and enjoy the scenery.

I’m patting my mouth from a nice, long yawn; without the bumps, shoots, and unexpected chaos, what’s the point?

My life is boring. B-O-R-I-N-G.

What would help? Well, I’d like to drain our bank account, take the red eye to Vegas, lease a hummer, rent a room in Caesar’s Palace, then eat, drink and play casino games until I’m hitchhiking on a desert highway home.

What a weird desire. Like, pretty impulsive and reckless right?

Something tells me that the right Freudian analyst’s couch could provide insight into what that’s about.

Flippin A. Scrolling on my phone, I saw a bedspread with a simple white with black Celtic patterning and thought, “Ooh, I need that.”

I don’t.

I want many things I don’t need; a pink electric beach cruiser bicycle, a girl chicken, a Tesla, a whole new wardrobe, a heated above-ground pool, and an underground bunker. Just kidding. I don’t want a Tesla.

But really, I wonder how I can be responsibly reckless? Is it even possible?

Maybe I should start swimming in the lake. I know goose poop abounds, so I’ll likely get swimmer’s itch, and that fall’s chill will make me run for a hot shower after, but it does match my managed daredevil goal, does it not?

Once the family and I return from taking Cathy to the airport tomorrow, I’ll give it a swim a contemplate.

Alright, night night. Love, Jaclynn

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