Going Hunting At Daybreak

I'm laying here in bed, in the dark, thinking about adventure and what a new day brings. I'm thinking that adventure, in the most thrilling sense of the word, seems ever elusive to those leading what might be termed typical lives. We wake up and go to work each day, leaving before there's time to do much, and returning home too late to do much. Now I'm not complaining, rather I'm inviting any and all to participate in my wandering exploration of the idea of adventure. For, on the one hand, I don't feel unhappy at all. Quite to the contrary, I find myself quite animated and quite anxious for each new day. At the same time, when I come to write a post about adventure, I find myself without much physical material. So what exactly constitutes an adventure? Will I have one today? Did I have one yesterday? Is it only an adventure if it proves entertaining to an audience after the fact? Or is a satisfactory adventure qualified only by the new things we do in our lives each day? Is it an adventure to try to keep a running blog suturing my varying pursuits together? All I find myself with today are questions, and most likely tomorrow will be the same—I enjoy questions because it means I still have a puzzle to solve.
I want to know where the heart of adventure is truly to be found, and as day begins to break here in a snow covered upstate New York, I'm going hunting for it.