What’s the worst that could happen? I shrug as I say it.
I threw myself down a snow-covered mountain with two skinny boards strapped to my feet. You could break a leg. Oh well, I have insurance.
I hurled myself across a gorge, dangling upside down hundreds of feet in the air, dangling by a thin wire cable attached to another thin wire cable. The zipline could break and you’d die. Oh well, I’d wake up in heaven.
I left my job of fifteen years and moved 600 miles to another state. You might not get another job and end up homeless and broke and have to move in with your family and be a complete loser and fail at everything you ever tried. Oh well, I guess we’ll see.
Taking chances doesn’t come naturally. I’ve never been a high-adrenaline risk taker and for most of my life, I’ve only taken the safe routes. The unknown has potholes, mean dogs, and weirdos. But once the worst thing you can think of has happened to you and you survive it, taking risks suddenly seems a lot less risky. You go around the potholes; the mean dogs aren’t as mean as they look; and the weirdos turn out to be just like you.
So after eighteen years of living in Whatcom County and fifteen years at a job I mostly loved and only rarely hated, when the opportunity came to leave my comfortable, safe, uneventful life, I took it. On the 600 mile drive to my new home, I thought, why not keep going? Why stop here? Well, says this crazy risk-taker, it’s the safe space. It’s where most of my family lives. It’s a baby step, okay?
So for now, I’m taking a little chance on Idaho. What will you take a chance on today?
Disclaimer: As a reader and writer, I know that when a character asks, “What’s the worst that can happen?” something far worse than they imagine is about to occur. But real life rarely plays out like a well-plotted story.
In real life, the phrase to watch out for is “Hold my beer.”
Ok, that’s my post for the year. Hope to see you again before another year goes by.