Signs That Fall Travel Has Come to a Close.
21 November, 2008 § Leave a comment
I realized last night as I sunk into my well-worn futon mattress with a grateful groan that this is the first week I will have spent more than three consecutive nights in my apartment since September. Do not get me wrong – – I have loved every moment (well, OK, almost every one) of fall travel and I am sure the itch to be on the road again will hit soon, but for now, I am loving a more stationary life. Among other things, it’s been wonderful to catch up with familiar faces and even to meet some new ones around campus, although in my state of sleep-deprivation right now, I probably wouldn’t be able to differentiate between the two…
Yes, thanks to a massive attack of the jet-lagsters, I was awake enough to watch 1 a.m…. then 2, 3, 4, and 5 roll past with bleary red figures on the ominous black alarm clock perched next to my bed. I paced. I took a warm path. I drank warm tea. I read an entire book. I stalked an amazing amount of people on Facebook (aren’t you glad they can’t trace that activity yet?) I unpacked half of my suitcase. I punched my pillows. I counted to 317 – – in French. I turned on my back. I turned on my side. I turned on my stomach. When the sunshine crept into my room with an alarmingly bright twinkle around 6.45, though, I decided to give it up as a lost battle. “What the crap,” I muttered as I stalked angrily into the bathroom, frustrated that my body was unwilling to wield to the strength of my mind-powers. “I’ll just go to the office then!”
It was actually a surprisingly glorious day, however, and I’m glad that I went in for the whole day because it afforded me time for two coffee dates, a stroll to the post-office, long conversations with just about everyone in the office after I regaled them with stories of lecherous Korean men and handed out my small love-gifts for them, and even a good, long browsing in the discount-section of the bookstore. O, and did I mention the great head-start I got on tackling the pile of voicemails, emails, applications, interview weekend appointments, reply cards, and the like that had somehow managed to explode across every available surface of my office in an alarmingly brief amount of time? Yes. By the time I carefully crawled down Fancher’s icy stone steps around 6 p.m. tonight (almost 24 hours to the dot after I first woke up yesterday from the initial return flight from Tokyo), I was filled with a glow of satisfaction.
And now, I am soaking in the reminders that I am home: there is a candle burning in my favorite green-bottle candle-holder with its preexistent blue, red and purple wax drips. Handel’s Messiah is echoing sonorously from my beat-up pair of speakers in the bedroom, soon to be followed by some rousing Hindi tunes… yes, Aradhna, you will forever be my musical crush. There is a giant jug of OJ with extra pulp resting on the top shelf in my fridge, surrounded by fresh pesto, blushing tomatoes, bronzed acorn squash, green peppers, purple onions, white garlic bulbs, garam masala and a pink carton of rounded eggs. Milk – – not so much. Me, milky no like. Also, the dish-drainer next to my scratched but well-loved kitchen sink is soon to be overflowing from the dishes used during the enjoyment my first homecoming dinner. And best of all? The front of my fridge is now sporting a brand-new addition of a fabulous card full of well-known scrawl from one of my other halves… it was originally dangling from my doorknob with a package of cappucino-filled chocolate (which sounds delicious to even my non-chocoholic soul) inside when I returned from Tokyo last night, and it was pretty much the sweetest homecoming gift ever. Ha. Get it? Sweetest?
Ahem. Moving on…
Did I mention yet the stack of books next to my bathtub just awaiting my eager touch? Yes, friends: it’s good to be home. And with that, I think I shall away to my whistling teapot and my other contented potterings around until I’m duely satisfied that I have stayed awake long enough and can finally crash again – – this time in the right zone.