In my trips to New York, DC, San Francisco, in walking down the streets in downtown Denver, even, I'd always imagined that working downtown (any downtown) would be fabulous.
The take-mass-transit-to-work possibilities, the lunch options, the after-work-drink locales. All sound enticing.
My sister does it, many friends have, too. But even though part of my bipolar personality fancies itself a city girl I never have, and without a significant career change, never will.
But after a meeting downtown, I decided that since I had already paid for all-day parking, I should use some of that time to have lunch downtown, like the sophisticated downtown-workers do.
I called my sister. She wasn't at her desk. I tried another friend. Strike two. Nearly defeated I tried one more.
He was up for it. We had trip planning to attend to anyway. We met for salads near his office.
He made me laugh as he always does. Made me forget some of the craziness that has been my life lately. Got me excited again for our upcoming trip.
As we walked to his office, I asked if he liked working downtown. He said not really. Describing his reasons made me realize I'd probably love it for a month, then be ready for another change.
Perhaps I will always be restless. With where I work, where I live, who I date.
For now, I'm satisfied knowing at least I'll be travelling soon.