Runaway

My best friend growing up has the funniest runaway story.  She packed candy bars, her stuffed animals and ran away with her "boyfriend" (they were under 10 years old... I can't remember the exact age).  They made it all the way to the park and he decided to go home for dinner. Wimp.

My runaway story isn't nearly so exciting.  I was mad at someone, so I threatened to run away. I went into my room- which was somehow clean at the time- I opened the window that overlooked the front lawn and pushed the curtains out so it would look like I'd jumped out the window.  I wasn't really planning on running away, I just wanted to see if my family would care if I wasn't there.  So I hid under my bed and awaited their reaction.

When they finally unlocked my bedroom door and came in, my dad went to the window and looked out (I imagine, I'm under the bed remember so I can't actually see). He said something like, Where, oh where could she be?  My sister jumped on the bed and hung upside down to look under.  I gave her the "shhhhhh" finger- actually assuming that she wouldn't give away my secret. Hmph, some ally she turned out to be.  She stood up and silently pointed at the bed (she told me that later).  My dad said, "Well, I guess we should call the police" 

He was bluffing, right? I stayed under the bed, excited that he cared I was gone, but scared because he was going to call the police. I waited.  I heard dialing, my sister talking saying, "My little sister ran away. We need help finding her."

They called? They really called? I was elated to know they cared! I scooted out from under the bed and ran to the dining room where my sister was on the phone next to my dad. "I'm here, I'm here," I shouted. My sister handed me the phone.  She'd called Time and Temperature.

Jerk.

What is it about running away that is so appealing? Here I am, 25 years later, and I still want to run away. I find myself getting into ruts far too quickly.  I am itchy. I want change. I thought a change of jobs would help- but losing my job and spending the last FIVE months looking for one- has not helped. It's just created a new rut.  I hate moving, but I want to get out of here. There's a really big world and I want to see it. I'm just afraid wherever I go, I'll just end up in another rut.  How do you deal with that? How do you get used to the sameness of life day after day?

I have always said I wanted to be a housewife, but honestly, I don't know if I could do it.  I admire the people who can.  I don't know if I have the attention span for it. It would be fun for a while, but then I would get set in a routine and slowly go crazy.  But I want roots. I don't want to be a drifter.

I don't know what I want. I'm crazy. We'll leave it at that.