I suppose it was inevitable, but its suddenly very real as I enter the confines of our dustless, orderly, comfortable, well appointed and fashionable apartment in the lovely Fenway area of Boston. I’ve been on American soil for over 4 hours now, having arrived at the airport sometime around 4:30 pm and passing through customs by 2 minutes to 5 pm, but only now as I settle into my fat leather high backed wheeled desk chair does it sink in… ITS OVER. Sitting in a bar with my friends directly after landing and saying “I can’t believe I have to work tomorrow” is nothing compared to opening my closet full of clothing and thinking about what I’m actually going to wear when I’m working tomorrow. My first day of work after 30 plus days of intense travel and general liesure and life out of a back pack. Of course I was excited to come home. I missed everyone. I missed the comfort of my space. I missed routine and healthful food options. But it is impossible not to look back with fondness doubled and disbelief at the amazing events of the past month.
I came home and after guiltfully watering my poor plant that had been neglected for four weeks changed my clothes and wore something besides what I’d been wearing constantly as my plant withered without attention. It is a wonder how good something clean and of a different fabric can feel against your skin. SIGH… it struck me most when I was in our bathroom. On the back of the toilet is a collection of rocks and shells from my last Eurpoean adventure and now I’m going to add to it… and stay here… with only the rocks and shells, but no beach or mediterranian.
I am exhausted… it is 3am Paris time… here only 9pm, but I haven’t had a proper nights sleep in over 48 hours… so bed calls and so does the reality of my true life… work tomorrow!
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