Traveling isn’t always all that it’s cracked up to be. People spend time talking about the experiences, the culture, the food, and all the other stuff that gets romanticized. That is real, but sometimes travel is just hard. Real talk, sometimes you get sick, you lose luggage, you’ve got to change plans, you don’t get to do all the things you hoped you’d accomplish. Sometimes you just want to go home. Home? Yes, I just called the place I only moved to about a year ago home. It’s where my stuff is, where my life is, where things currently feel normal.
Today’s post is a late post mainly because I’m not at home. I was awakened out of my NyQuil haze by housekeeping at the hotel I slept at wanting to clean my room, then spent the entire day driving around, running errands, feeling frustrated. The few brief moments of respite were spent seeing old friends and drinking wine. Not gonna lie, this trip back to the States has been rough. With cranky, jet-lagged children and a cold making its rounds, it has been hard to enjoy being back. Not to mention the #adulting when it comes to the apartment we left behind that is currently in the middle of renovations. I’m getting a little headache just thinking about it…
There are three days left in my American vacation. I only hope I can make the most of it. So far, I’m not feeling like I have done very much and I’m sure I will be regretting it next week.
