I don’t know if I’m homesick or just miss the restaurants that deliver to my apartment. I’ve been gone for a week, which is longer than I’ve been away from home in at least a year. That means it has been at least a year since I last didn’t have the power to look in the fridge, see there was nothing to eat that required fewer than three steps, and press buttons on the internet until better food than I can make appeared at my door carried by someone who, weirdly, thanks me when they give me my delicious cop out. It’s weird not to be at home, even if where I’m at is amazing.
Have you ever been to a restaurant or a party or a really swell museum, and you love every minute of the time you’re there, and everything is delicious and fun and intriguing. And then you go home. And in all the world, this is the place it is most ok to take your pants off. Then you fall into bed, and your sheets are cool. Maybe you say something like “wowzers” and fall asleep, and it’s ok that you drool a bit because either nobody is watching or the only people who would see it don’t care.
I think that’s what I’m building up to. There has been so much incredible stuff here that I’m almost at maximum “wowzers.” I saw a fucking waterfall. Do you know how much better a waterfall is than really good naan? They don’t even compare. One is a really pleasant bread, and the other was a beautiful torrent of crystal springwater bursting from the earth and slipping through cracks in a cliffside.
I need like 3 hours in bed just to exhale.
I miss home because things are comforting there. Everything is a little easier when you’ve done it before. However, there’s not a lot to lie back and let sink in because you’ve mostly done everything.
So I’m looking forward to home, not because I want this experience to end, but because it was incredible and I’m like a slow computer that needs extra time for things to process.