While I was enjoying a relaxing lunch and slowly working my way through an excellent book posthumously published containing obscure essays by C.S. Lewis, a book that I had picked up while visiting Gig Harbor a few weeks ago , one of my coworkers showed me a picture on her smartphone of a cheeseburger inside two pizzas, what was called a pizzaburger. I commented that I would not have that particular burger with pepperoni on it, and then commented on the heartburn and acid reflux I would likely have after eating something with that much grease. She agreed with me, and we both agreed that we were old, because we saw a food so unhealthy it would likely be eaten in Scotland or the Southeastern United States and were concerned about its effects on our digestion. I suppose being old happens to most of us, but it is not particularly enjoyable to be reminded that one is an old fogy in an aspect of life, and not as adventuresome as one once was because one is more conscious of the repercussions of being too wild.
Later on during the work day, while a rainstorm and breezy conditions were going on outside, I had a chance to live on the wild side in a different way. While sitting at my desk helping to design a new report for one of the sales managers, and then attending to a lengthy e-mail to my boss detailing, for his boss, the scheduled reports I undertake on a daily, weekly, and monthly basis, I had the opportunity to vicariously enjoy the walk on the wild side that my colleagues were going through. The electricity went out in half of the building for a bit, and that knocked off the internet and phones on that half, so the manager of a group of employees whom I happen to know pretty well  came up to use my phone to call the help desk. Meanwhile, a couple of my other coworkers  were asking me if I knew where there were any spiral notebooks that they could filch. I assume they meant it at least slightly jokingly, because although as a writer I tend to have a lot of notebooks half-filled with my chickenscratch writing, I tend not to be the thieving sort of person, except perhaps as being a theft of time. Meanwhile, one of the executives whose office is not far from me asked me ahead of time if I would not mind doing some forensic reporting to help address someone’s unfortunate phone habits, a task I was quite eager to undertake, being the sort of person who loves using my reporting expertise to solve mysteries and recognize the patterns in others’ behavior.
But, as enjoyable as such things are, are they wild? I too am a creature of habit, more so than most people are. Disappointed that one of my books had not yet arrived at the library for me to read over 700 pages on why the North won the Civil War, comfort reading if there is such a thing for a book that size, I dropped off the four books that I had read from my last library run, and then went home to do some cleaning and packing. At least to my eyes, it does not look like there is much more packing to do, the clothes in my closet, some of the food I will be transporting, and maybe half a box of books that I have yet to read, and there is some trash that needs to be cleaned up, likely on the first day of the week, but all in all it looks like a pretty manageable task. Then I went to enjoy my customary Taco Tuesday for perhaps the last time, at least the last time as a regular habit  in my current location, where I had researched that there was free wi-fi that I had never used because I had gone home to use wi-fi, an option that was not available at present. So, that was, I suppose the extent of my wild day, as when I go home I will pack some clothes to bring up to Vancouver in the evening, when some adopted family and I clean out most of my possessions in books and furniture from the old apartment.
In the book of Genesis, quite a few chapters are devoted to the wanderings of Abraham the Hebrew. Promised that his descendants would inherit the land of Canaan, he symbolically took ownership of that land in an anticipatory sense by traveling all over it. He entered from the north as he came from Haran, and lived in such areas as Beersheba, Hebron, and Gezer. He broke bread with the mysterious Melchizedek of Salem, rescued the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah, in the area of the Red Sea, out of family loyalty to his nephew Lot, and engaged in a daring military attack that extended from Dan as far as Hamath in Syria. Yet all his life, the only land he ever actually owned in his own name was the plot of land near Hebron that he bought for an expensive price as a burial place for his beloved Sarah that he bought from his allies among the sons of Heth. Perhaps someday I will be able to put down at least some roots in an area, to feel a place is welcoming and safe, no easy task for someone as anxious and battle-scarred as I am. In the meantime, though, I suppose it is not a bad thing to leave a trace on the map, and symbolically take possession of a land by acquiring knowledge of many areas, and learning how to retrain the habits of behavior and mind that I seem to acquire so easily as a creature of habit in the worst way. In the meantime, I wander as a tumbleweed, and who knows when my vagabondage will end, or where I will be sitting when the music stops.
 See, for example:
 See, for example: