Turns out the cleanliness of my bathroom depends on my travel schedule.

It’s the evening before I leave for my first bike tour of the year, and 10:30pm finds me not settling down into bed, preparing for a good night’s rest, but breathing fumes while cleaning my shower. The only time I clean my shower is when I’m getting ready to travel. Because I don’t want my house sitter to judge me. She is a lovely, seemingly totally normal woman who probably has a totally normal bathroom at home featuring a little soap scum and some hard water stains, but when I’m getting ready to turn my house over to her for a week, in my mind she may as well be a crime scene investigator.

Is that a strand of hair? There’s a fingerprint on the mirror! Good gravy there are water spots on the chrome spigot. When was this place last cleaned? 2012?

So instead of spending my last evening at home relaxing and sitting with a collection of cats, I’m cleaning the bathroom. Because guaranteed, no matter my intentions and the absolutely vast amount of time I have leading up to departure day, I will put off this bathroom thing until the last minute. I don’t make the rules. Actually, yes, I do make the rules. I’m just sometimes a horrible procrastinator when it comes to household tasks I hate. Thanks, me.

I’m also stressed. Mainly this is because I’ve figured out that I actually don’t like to travel. I like saying yes to new adventures and doing things I haven’t done before, and I especially like riding my bicycle for hours at a time, but I’d prefer to experience all this close enough to home so that I can sleep in my own bed each night. Unfortunately, much of the world is not located within my immediate geographical region, so travel ends up being my only choice.

So, off I go tomorrow morning to the supposedly green hills of the Shenandoah Valley. In just the short time that it will take me to listen to a complete audiobook plus probably a Taylor Swift album and have a phone call with my mom, I’ll be there! Ready to jump right in to stressing about the routes ahead of me for the next six days.

I have paid good money for the privilege of sleeping in a tent in a random field each night, spending my days struggling up and down the types of hills that we definitely don’t have here at home and paying for all of my own snacks, water, adult beverages, and meals. And to think there are some people who prefer to go to some losery place like a Sandals resort.

Of course, I jest. I like to challenge myself, and I really do like to ride my bicycle for hours at a time. I’ll be spending the week with my dear friend Cynthia from last year’s Shoreline West tour, and meeting one of her friends as well. I have good camping stuff and after doing bike tours for the last several years, I pretty much know what I’m doing.

I’m not going to worry about work, as I’ve done my best to make sure all my stuff is taken care of while I’m gone, and I have yet to experience a true hair-on-fire style business transformation emergency. I think my various teammates can handle it.

I’m not going to worry about the house or my kitties, as my lovely house sitter is the best I could ever ask for, and the cats like her almost as much as they like me. The house already acted out by having a clothes rod and shelf hung with many shirts fall right off the wall and make a huge mess. Joke’s on the house though, as I had plenty of time to fix it before leaving. Normally it waits until I’m several days and hundreds of miles away to pull a stunt like that. The stunt also usually involves water, so I’m way ahead.

Starting on Friday, my legs are going to burn, my lungs will be on fire, and I may think dark and grumbly thoughts sometimes, but I know I’m going to enjoy the beautiful new landscape, hang out with friends, and partake in some guilt-free post-ride beers. Ahh, this is the life.

I said yes to Bike Virginia and whatever adventures it brings. I’m sure it will be good.