I have a love/ hate relationship with getting home from vacation. After being away from home for many nights, I crave my own bed with just the right amount of blankets-a sheet and an afghan- and my shower where there are little shelves for each of my little shower things including my nail brush that I am not willing to fly across the country.
And when I am away from home I miss Simon the cat--and then for the whole next week after getting home he is so loving and under our feet constantly. I like that.
But going from being surrounded by family for a week to our fairly solitary life in Littleton is shocking. It hit me when we were taking the shuttle from the airport to our parked car- sitting there with all of our luggage and a bunch of strangers with theirs, bumping and jolting our way to our cars-I was looking at the open sky and the line the mountains make against that sky. Everything was so big and expansive that it felt a little bit lonely. I knew it would be a passing feeling and that I would be back in the mode that my life requires before long-which I am now--but I hate making that transition. Then going to work the next day--grrr--must put on my LensCrafters self, which means shutting down as many non-essential bodily systems as possible.
Indiana was good to us though--really it was more like our mid-west tour. We were in Michigan, Indiana, and Kentucky. We kayaked, laid flooring, saw a copperhead, ate Irish food twice and set off a huge illegal firework in a Bloomington alley. Good times.
