Yesterday, we booked a hotel in Auckland for February 11, and the sense of relief was almost immediate. It’s located within two minutes of the airport, offers a shuttle, a generously sized room with a king bed, free WiFi, an on-site restaurant, and boasts a 9.2 rating from recent guests. All the small but meaningful details lined up just right for our next day’s flight. By making this choice, we’ve removed the pressure of having to rush to Auckland on the day of our flight to Tasmania. Instead of watching the clock and navigating traffic with clenched jaws, we’ll arrive calmly, enjoy a pleasant dinner at the hotel’s restaurant, and let the evening unfold without urgency.

The plan is simple and, for us, ideal. Tom will drop me and the luggage at the hotel, then return the rental car using the hotel’s free shuttle. After that, we can truly relax for the evening, knowing that the hard part is already taken care of. Early the next morning, we’ll head out for our flight to Hobart feeling rested rather than frazzled. We’ve learned over many years of travel that the lowest-stress scenario is almost always worth it, even if it means paying a little more. Peace of mind, especially during transit between countries, has become one of our most cherished travel luxuries.

On another note, this past week has marked a welcome shift back toward normalcy. Since I’ve been feeling better, I’ve started exercising each day, following a few online guides I discovered after doing a bit of research. The exercises are somewhat strenuous, and there are moments when my muscles remind me just how sedentary I was while sick. Still, I can already tell that my strength and stamina will improve over time. Progress may be slow, but it’s happening, and that in itself feels like a victory.

While exercising yesterday, I was facing a wall in the living room and suddenly noticed an unusual piece of wall décor, something that had clearly been there all along. I pointed it out to Tom and asked if he’d seen it before. He hadn’t. That realization made us both laugh. After nearly three weeks in this house, you’d think we would have noticed not only that item, but other decorative details as well. Yet, as is so often the case, we become absorbed in what we’re doing or what’s happening outdoors and pay little attention to the interior, aside from the features/items we actually use.

That’s not entirely true, of course. I have noticed the live plants scattered throughout the house and have watered them each week. But beyond that, much of the décor fades into the background. Years ago, we used to call this phenomenon “house blind.” It referred to the areas in our own homes that needed repairs or maintenance, things we stopped noticing because confronting them meant admitting what we weren’t getting done. There’s an irony in realizing that, as world travelers moving through a wide array of properties, we can still be so oblivious to our surroundings in similar ways.

This particular house, however, is in perfect condition, with no obvious repairs needed. Dave, our landlord and a builder by trade, has been intermittently working on a garage for this house. Yesterday, he stopped by to ask if we’d mind if he worked on it for a bit. We didn’t mind at all. He plans to put the house on the market as soon as we move out. Interestingly, we are both the first and the last renters to ever occupy this home. He has three finished houses on this acreage and a fourth still in progress. Soon, I’ll post videos of the houses, as they really are something special.

In any case, our lack of attention to the interiors of holiday homes never ceases to amaze us. The properties we rent are always in excellent condition, and once we’ve confirmed that reality, our attention naturally drifts elsewhere. Perhaps that’s part of the beauty of this lifestyle: being present enough to feel comfortable, yet unattached enough to let the details quietly exist without demanding our notice.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, January 3, 2016: