The Travel Bug

It bit me once again. 

That tiny bug that flies around this world and attacks its innocent victims decided to cast me under its spell.

 It reminds me of the way a spider paralyzes his prey before entwining them in his silken web to save and eat for a midnight snack----

Except instead of insects, this little bug preys upon homebodies that seldom exit their house.  He keeps his beady eyes open for his chance to sneak in and sink his fangs into their protective bubble of routine life. 

Oh the agony that goes along with that bite.  At one moment, you are content with the small world around you; but then after that fateful bite, the small world seems as if it closes in tighter and tighter by the day. 

The symptoms of the travel bug are easy to identify.
 His victims gaze wistfully at maps, stare for countless hours at globes, daydream of English tea shoppes, French umbrellas, Swiss mountaintops, and Irish highlands. 
They pack suitcases and live out of them even when at home, they obtain cookbooks of different ethnic foods and try to follow the recipes for some new cuisine, they read travelers' blogs, view travel agency websites, and pretend to buy tickets from Delta airlines. 
They can imagine how thrilling it would be to backpack through the Rocky mountains, travel by train to Prince Edward Island, visit and help orphanages in Africa, travel by sled to the outermost regions of Alaska, see the ruins of the Berlin Wall in Germany, walk beside the Great Wall of China, traverse the deep jungles of Peru, canoe the bayous of Louisiana, enjoy the perils of the rugged Russia, soak in the sun on some remote, uninhabited island, and soar the rolling oceans while the wind whips through their hair.

Oh, that bite.  All it takes is a one-time attack, and the symptoms will last for a lifetime; watch out if you get bit more than once.  My body bears the marks of countless bites from the nasty travel bug.  Each bite worsens the symptoms double fold. 

So what is the anecdote?  How can one at least partially relieve these terrible effects from the travel bug? 

The only way that I have found relief is by self-will alone. That commitment to staying where God puts me and living within the means of my finances.  Perhaps one day when I am old and ancient, walking with a cane, and crippled with arthritis, I will inherit some money from a distant relative and be able to finally put the travel bug to rest.  One never knows!  But till then, I will pretend my house is an enchanted villa and my windows look out upon rolling hills filled with broken-down castles.  Every day will be a new day to allow my imagination to carry me away to the worlds I will probably never visit. 

All due to that stupid little bug.....