I’ve been thinking the same thing for two weeks now.
I can’t believe I get paid to do what I do.
I mean—I make a living doing something I truly love. Every day for the last two weeks, I get my day started with a little coffee and head out to rural Iowa to meet people and do my job. I get to drive a car furnished by my employer (who I’ll be deliberately vague about since they’re a rather *known* company) and while most people wouldn’t be too thrilled driving around a billboard, I’m not one of them. I couldn’t be happier driving it around, letting everyone know who I represent. I hold doors at gas stations, I smile at strangers, I shake hands, I make small talk, I set my cruise-control and I rock out to my Windshield Time playlist on Spotify.
Iowa never fails to be a magical place for me and I’m really lucky to get to explore as an added bonus to my job. For example, the last two weeks, I’ve gone down at least one dirt road to get to someone’s house. I’ve visited two legit farms. I’ve seen countless windmills and I’m becoming very familiar with the route from Des Moines to Omaha.
Today… and I’m going to do this an injustice—I was driving down a county road where I saw no one for 15 miles. It was corn as far as the eye could see. And beyond that, everything was painted white with snow: the trees were skeletons covered in white, the power lines were all coated white, the corn fields were white rolling hills. The world felt quiet and beautiful and I was lucky enough to be a part of that.
The point of all this, guys? I’m insanely lucky. Blessed, even. It’s been a long road getting here and it’s not lost on me that I’ve been well taken care of along the way. Every day, I’m thankful. Every day, I know I’m doing the right thing. I’m not planning my next move, I’m enjoying exactly where I am in this moment.