Coming home

February 14th

There is something special about coming home from even the short trip. On one hand, I would like to keep on traveling, and I have already made plans for more trips, but on the other hand, I just couldn’t wait to get home. The last hour especially stretches too much to more than just 60 minutes, or it seems like it. The same way yesterday — when I could almost see my hometown, there was a 30 minutes train delay. And I just had to sit in a carriage and wait. Well, I didn’t completely waste my time sitting there on a stopped train — I made a plan how I would get home from there if I were to just jump from the train and walk across the fields and villages. In the end, I waited still without doing something that silly.

I couldn’t ‘t wait to get home because there I wanted to lie down in MY bed, which is the most comfortable bed in the world and where I can snuggle under MY blanket just right. I couldn’t wait to get home to take a shower in MY bathroom, where MY towels are the softest and I know how to set the water temperature just right. I couldn’t wait to get home to eat something from MY fridge where I know exactly what is what and I know it will taste just right. I couldn’t wait to sit in MY chair in front of MY desk where my computer monitors and keyboard and mouse are set at the correct angles and in precise layout and fit my OCD just right.

That last point was just for the laugh, but in all honesty — I need the right setup for any work I do. A laptop is fine for the trip, but in the long run, I require the proper arrangement of equipment for work but also for relaxation as well.

I had plenty of places I called home over the years. Every time I knew that I will be staying at that particular place for a while and that will be my home for a shorter or longer duration — I would go about making that place mine. It made no difference if that was just a room I was renting, a bedsit, an apartment, or a proper house. I had to make some arrangements to make it feel special, to make it comfortable, to make it unique, to make it warm, to make it safe, to make it a place worth coming back to — after work or after the trip or after at all. I got pretty good at it, but now I just don’t want to go about it again. I have a place I call home and I know I will be coming back here all and every time.

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footsteps of the Furies

footsteps of the Furies

“for they knew what sort of noise it was; they recognize, by now, the footsteps of the Furies”. Enjoying life on the road to recovery. Observing and writing.