Six Months

Yesterday marked six months on the road. We're celebrating in the way we most desperately craved: lying in bed for hours, eating vegetables, and watching Jake Gyllenhaal movies.

It seems ironic to celebrate a major milestone is possible the least celebratory way possible. Usually the term "celebrate" conjures images of champagne and dancing and making out with strangers and binge eating chicken nuggets at 3am (bear with me, I'm still pretty fresh out of college). But we chose otherwise. And it feels perfect. We rarely eat vegetables, since they pack poorly in limited pannier space. We rarely sleep in beds, resorting for our inflatable sleeping pads in our tent. We rarely watch TV, instead reading books by headlamp light.

When living a transitory life, you grow to appreciate small wonders that used to seem so commonplace. I discovered a love for pillows and colanders and microwaves and outlets and electronic tooth brushes and leave-in hair conditioner and real pants with zippers and mugs and toilet paper not from gas station bathrooms and books without torn out pages and typing on a laptop keyboard instead of my phone. All luxuries that are reasonable in real life, but can't warrant the space and weight on a bicycle. 

Though I'm beginning to crave the things that stationary living affords, I also grow aware of how much I'll miss this bike life when in concludes in a mere month and a half (ed note: finish parry March 11!). 

The bayou has been good to us so far. We crossed into Lousinana yesterday, and have already gazed in awe of the sunset over the crawdad fields and eaten delicious cajun crawdads hours later. We're a few days out of New Orleans, and we excitedly chatter about the bignettes as our sugar levels dip right before lunch. 

Maybe in New Orleans will have the proper sort of boozy and groovy celebration, but in the meantime, I have a bed that is calling me to sleep.