lucky to be coming home again
from Orangette:
Traveling is really, really great. I mean, I know that’s not exactly newsworthy, but bear with me for a minute. I guess what I mean is that, especially since I started working at home, where I spend lots of long hours in concentration and quiet, every time I go away, I feel thirsty somehow - like an old, crusty sponge, waiting to soak up something, anything, a new sight or smell or taste. And it feels so good to drink it all in, the way you’d do with a glass of water, in one enormous gulp, on a humid day. All that drinking in and soaking up, all that traveling, so good.
But then, after a while, coming home is kind of great too, in its own way. At first it feels like a sort of letdown, familiar but uncomfortable, like seeing an old photo of yourself and wondering why, oh why, you ever wore your hair like that. But then you start to notice the nice things. You notice that you actually like your little house, putty-colored living room carpet and all, much better than you thought you did before you left. You notice that dinner tastes better when you eat it from your own plates. And when you turn on the mixer on the kitchen counter, it shakes a little and makes this raspy, metallic whirr-whirrr sound, and somehow, though the same noise used to make you worry that the whole thing was going to explode into dust and shrapnel, now it sounds cheerful, workmanlike, even reassuring.
So I guess what I mean is that traveling is great, because of how it makes you feel about home.
:)
Traveling is really, really great. I mean, I know that’s not exactly newsworthy, but bear with me for a minute. I guess what I mean is that, especially since I started working at home, where I spend lots of long hours in concentration and quiet, every time I go away, I feel thirsty somehow - like an old, crusty sponge, waiting to soak up something, anything, a new sight or smell or taste. And it feels so good to drink it all in, the way you’d do with a glass of water, in one enormous gulp, on a humid day. All that drinking in and soaking up, all that traveling, so good.
But then, after a while, coming home is kind of great too, in its own way. At first it feels like a sort of letdown, familiar but uncomfortable, like seeing an old photo of yourself and wondering why, oh why, you ever wore your hair like that. But then you start to notice the nice things. You notice that you actually like your little house, putty-colored living room carpet and all, much better than you thought you did before you left. You notice that dinner tastes better when you eat it from your own plates. And when you turn on the mixer on the kitchen counter, it shakes a little and makes this raspy, metallic whirr-whirrr sound, and somehow, though the same noise used to make you worry that the whole thing was going to explode into dust and shrapnel, now it sounds cheerful, workmanlike, even reassuring.
So I guess what I mean is that traveling is great, because of how it makes you feel about home.
:)