Being on the Move

There, apparently, are those people who are never happy unless they are on the move. Literally, as in hopping buses, trains and flights and going to exotic places and feeling the day wasted if they woke up to the same landscape that they saw the previous morning. Or, figuratively, as in constantly moving up the corporate ladder or moving out if the moving up does not work - a promotion a year is acceptable to them but once a month would be more like what they would love. The former like never sleeping in the same bed more than a night and the latter find sitting in the same seat more than a year stifling.
I did start out saying 'apparently' but, then, I thought of myself as belonging to that ilk (both ilks, I am nothing if not ambitious if only in my dreams)  when I as a lot younger than I am now (and had a lot more hair, though that is not germane to the issue. It is not like I am a kind of Samson and my ambitions were shed with my hair). Life, though, taught me a few lessons that ended up in my shedding a few illusions (if you say 'very few', I shall look on your pitiful ignorance with derision. You really have no clue how many I started out with - why, at that age, I even thought that the only difference between Rajnikant and me was that he spoke too fast).
Where was I? Ah! I was saying I had shed a few illusions. You see, I found that a lot of things in life are wonderful to dream about. You think of traveling and there is the idea of gliding blissfully through a lovely countryside (and, perhaps, a couple of swooning girls along who are taken by your poetic appreciation of the beauties of Nature). There are no bone-rattling bad roads, no crowds of stinking arm-pits and, above all, no motion sickness. (And, if there are any swooning girls at all in your vicinity, the reason for their swooning would probably be you, yes, but it probably would be your motion sickness and not your poetry that would be causing the swooning).
As for being on the move figuratively, that is even worse. I mean, in your illusions you probably thought that the grace of your presence and scintillating conversation would propel you up the corporate ladder as though you were jet-assisted - at least, I did. In reality, I discovered that you either had to work - and for more hours than you thought that the day had (I know they claim that there are some 24 hours to a day but, till I started working, it was only hearsay evidence. I had only been awake and, thus, seen only some 12 of them) OR, worse still, look around to see who did and lay claims to what he did OR, ideally, both. Whichever way you sliced it, this corporate ladder climbing was nauseating to me. Anyway, I really do not enjoy heights - it gives me vertigo - so why bother to climb ladders? (Sour grapes? Not at all. The problem with you guys is that you have learnt a couple of things and like showing them off even when it is not at all correct).
So, there you have me. I love traveling with an Atlas in the safe confines of my bed and enjoy stories of how other people climb corporate ladders. Someone once said, "Adventures are unpleasant things that happen to other people" and, THAT, about sums up my idea of being on the move.
Pity, therefore, that this year has started off with such a lot of traveling. Three trips in the first month and one more to start February off? Hmm! I really hope the year buckles down and starts behaving itself going forth or I may have to tick it off in no uncertain terms. Why, I may even call it "Annus Horribilis" and it will not know where to hide its face.