2004. In four days I leave for South Korea. An overseas move of indefinite duration. What do I do? I decide it might be fun to visit the San Antonio Zoo. I’m not sure whether I got too close to the monkey cage or simply succumbed to subconscious stress, but that night I started to ache. The next day, I’m running a fever. And the next. And the next. Still with an apartment full of junk that has to be transported to my parent’s garage, Goodwill, or the dump. Less than two days out and I finally start packing. Then I discover that after a year of living in the Texas tropics without A/C, mildew is everywhere. It’s growing on the wall behind my bed, in boxes of clothes in the closet, and inside my hiking backpack, my go-to luggage piece. 36 hours of no sleep and I’m just barely on the plane.

2006. My time in Seoul has come to an end. Now it’s time to launch myself into a three-month bicycle tour of Southeast Asia. Two weeks till I plummet into the unknown. What do I do? I decide it might be fun to visit Mongolia for 12 days. It’s a blast, and then I’m back with an apartment full of stuff that has to be boxed up and shipped home or pawned off on my neighbors. In two days, I stub my toe three times, twice opening gashes that ooze blood. I’m sprint-hobbling my way through closing a bank account, canceling my Internet, collecting my pension, and getting my $200 cell phone deposit back, all in a foreign language. 36 hours of no sleep and I’m lugging my boxed bicycle onto the airport bus, terrified.

2008. Why do I keep doing this? Moving is like the world’s worst hangover—you swear you’ll never drink again. I’ve tried to be better this time. A month out and I was gathering boxes, bubble-wrapping trinkets, and demolishing my homemade bookcases. I’ve rented storage, reserved a moving truck, submitted my forwarding addresses, listed the furniture on craigslist. But I can feel it coming. Somehow, 36 hours of no sleep. As if the only way to throw myself onto the road is as a groggy, bloodshot, trembling mess. Look out world. Here I come again.