I love coming home. I don't love unpacking suitcases or finding expired milk in the fridge or realizing that there's no fruit in the house (a tragedy at 422)... but I love to walk in the door and feel like I'm home. Yesterday was a lovely summery day - warm air, a great breeze, windows flung wide. Sitting on our couch, reading a book - it was such a nice way to relax. I was looking forward to getting to bed early and continuing to catch up on the sleep I didn't quite get to during the conference.
However - I tossed and turned all night, waking up from nightmares of being chased and attacked... there was actually a point when I woke up with my ankle hurting (I had been dreaming that I was hiding from some sort of deranged criminal/killer type person - and in the dream, they were biting my ankle.) Okay, I know that's weird (but it's a dream, people) - but it was unbelievably freaky to wake up with your ankle actually hurting. It made me not want to fall back to sleep, because I was afraid my dreams would pick up right where they left off.
(I'm sure I could psycho-analyze this to mean something about the level of stress I was feeling about coming back to work and my "regular" life, and how badly I need a real vacation with my hubby right now... but I'd rather not. Sometimes, you just have bad dreams).
Here's to hoping I sleep better tonight!
1 thoughts:
I totally know what you mean about coming home. When I was on family trips as a kid we used to always say "home again, home again, jiggity jig" when we pulled in the garage..... a bit weird but you always knew you were home! The first time I pulled in the garage at our house after being gone for a couple days it reminded me of that --- and made me realize our house finally felt like it was home! :)
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