It was a cosmic quid pro quo. After years of seamless travel, the Universe said, “Not this time.”
Two wonderful weeks in London visiting the grands, - exhausting and exhilarating in equal measure. Ballet recitals, soccer practice, deep conversations, the oldest got the lead in the end-of-year school play.
The everyday family stuff I hear about in bits and snatches, but rarely experience live. I savor every moment.
Additionally, wonderful catch-ups with Substack friends and . A terrific perk of this platform.
As I headed to Heathrow for my return, the good vibes faded. Little did I know that my sleep would be limited to cat naps for the next twenty-four hours.
I returned home to a flurry of life-altering decisions, the good kind, that awaited me. It was a mixed bag.
Travel goes all wrong
Let’s start with my “commute” back to JFK in New York. I’ve got it down to a science: train from Paddington to Heathrow, settle in over the Atlantic. Then the reverse: public transport to Penn Station in NYC, and onward to home upstate. With luck, the connections are pretty seamless. Yes, it is like a commute, albeit one that lasts 9-10 hours. On a good day.
June 2nd wasn’t a good day. I had stayed with a friend the evening before; we both had flights out in the morning. We opted for an Uber as she lives relatively close to Heathrow (LHR).
A transit strike put a lot more cars on the road. (Ironicly, the strike didn’t affect the train from Paddington to the airport, but there we were). In the early morning hours, a huge accident affected the main highway to the airport. Along with ongoing summer construction, the backup stretched for miles.
The ride to LHR took nearly 5 hours. A distance of about 10 miles. We both missed our flights. I was able to rebook for later that afternoon. An inconvenience, but so far, so good.
Boarded for the 4:30 pm departure, which turned out to be a 6 pm lift-off due to severe thunderstorms that closed flight activity.
I became concerned that it would be cutting it close for the last Amtrak train headed to my destination. Meanwhile, I had Bob Marley’s earworm: “everything’s gonna be alright.” There wasn’t much to do but enjoy the ride.
By the time I’d collected luggage, it was 8:40 pm at my destination. To my body, still on UK time, it was 1:40 AM the following day, allowing for the 5-hour time difference.
I caught an 11:30 pm train and arrived home at 1:30 am. To my body’s clock, it was 6:30; I’d been “up” 24 hours. My circadian rhythm was turned on its head.
I fell into a restless sleep for a few hours.
The decisions that greeted me
I’ve been wrestling with whether to downsize, the topic of a future article. It’s not an easy decision, but I’d been tiptoing toward it in addressing cosmetic issues to make my place more marketable.
At the same time, I’d been working out the “where to go” question - my ideal answer is a small condo community in the town where I’m determined to remain.
Two texts greeted me after 4 hours’ sleep after the travel marathon: miraculously, a condo unit was just listed: could I see it that afternoon?
And from my real estate broker: I have scheduled the photographer to shoot your interior today for the online listing; we don’t want to miss the spring market.
The pressure was mounting. I knew the rarity of the condo listing was something I had to act on - to at least see it, regardless of my fragile state.
And, I really couldn’t delay moving toward getting my place on the market.
So I said “yes” to all. Flew to the supermarket to get the last of the cheap annuals to round out the summer decks. I put everyday things away to make the place look like real estate marketing always looks: like no one lives there.
The photographer came - he and the broker fussed with the details; I went to look at the offering. Even in my sleepless daze, I knew it was perfect.
But where lots of money is involved, I need to sleep on it.
I made an offer the next day.
The earworm that kept me sane
Bob Marley’s live performance of the song “Everything’s Gonna Be Alright” at London’s Lyceum Theatre in the mid-70’s emphasized the refrain. It launched his career in the UK and eventually led to international celebrity status.
It played over and over in my head - an earworm that wouldn’t let go.
My “everything” wasn’t life-critical. Stressful to be sure, but my well-being didn’t hang in the balance. That perspective is important, as I’ve learned in my 4th quarter.
Through the travel delays, the decisions and opportunities presented the following day, the refrain kept me from a total freakout: Every little thing is gonna be alright.
See you next week, hopefully with an update on the real estate front!
Cheers,
Jane
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