For those of you who have been under a rock for the past few days, I'm now officially on vacation.

Subjectline courtesy David Gray. I've been singing it this afternoon, after a chance encounter with the song on the radio. It's probably one of my favorites from this year.

I've been toying with how I wanted to start this entry; this, my official switching from everyday life to the frantic and frenzy that comes for preparing for a classic Domesticat RoadTrip. I've been at a loss for how to begin.

A lot of the time, I write here about the serious, the thoughtful, the life-changing.

Tonight: the silly.

So I finally get to talk to Aaron, to get times and details hammered out for my trip (huzzah! he doesn't care if I go gallivanting about on my own!). In preparation, I spread out papers and such in the guest bedroom.

Immediately, Tenzing does his patented chirrup-hop! onto the bed, looks at my papers, and starts sniffing balefully. The mixed suspicion and curiosity were plain to see.

Over the years, I've asked myself many, many times why I do this. Why I feel this need. Why, at random times, it galvanizes me into packing a bag, calling up a few friends, and bartering cooking experience for crashspace.

Other people call it "wanderlust." That's probably as accurate a term as I'm ever going to find.It's best described as a quiet ache—of looking at the same four walls and knowing that you've looked at them before. Knowing that you've explored them from top to bottom, inside to out, and that there's not much left to discover.