The corporate world. Such a strange place for a backpacker. Even stranger that, if only for a brief period of time, I’ve enjoyed it. But I feel myself getting restless as part of the rat race. Making money to essentially have nothing to show for it.
I long for the days where I could grab a cocktail or beer at any hour and not have people question if it was a bit early or if I had some sort of dependency problems. I long for the days where waking up early happened naturally and usually involved throwing on a bikini and some boardies and hitting the ocean instead of skirts, dress shirts, heels, make up, hair done, getting into the car and knowing that the next eight hours of my life just pass the time.
This backpacker needs to win the lottery…and find a way to bring the purring furball backpacking.
