I keep posting stuff that is in direct relation to what Jason is posting. Some of you who read his stuff too might just start wondering if I have run out of original material. But then again if you really know me (and believe me, I’m quite comfortable in saying there are many of you who do ♥love♥) then you understand when I say that we are comparable personalities so to sometimes write similar stuff does not tend to bother or surprise me anymore.
Most of the time.
This time is odd because having a similar feeling to his, as documented in his most recent post, is a bit surreal.
But here it is anyway.
For the past two weeks Matt and I have been cat sitting for my friend’s mom’s cat Zoe while they are off touring the west coast, meeting up with friends and generally having some vacation fun. Yea! These people are awesome, my second family seriously, and I am fully comfortable hanging at their place. For a while. What I am not so comfortable with is sleeping in their bed for two weeks, misplacing my stuff all over their house and showering in their shower. What I really mean to say of course is I miss my own home. Even if it does smell like dead cabbage cat in my building, it is mine.
I love to travel so even with the paranoid delusions I have about hotel rooms, there is something about getting away that is so liberating. Call it the nomad in me but setting out for wherever, whenever, is an art I have longed to master for most of my life. But then I get to a point where all I want to say is ‘OK I’m done now’ and poof! Magically I am transported back to my own sofa, my own bed, my own comfort place. I have reached that place now but there are still three more days to go. Boo.
Kids and babies are allowed to whine and cry when they can not have the instant gratification of getting what they want the exact moment they desire it. As adults we have to suck it up and deal; or vent in our blogs I suppose. Well consider this my personal, cranky pants rant.
I have not slept in almost 10 nights now because their bed is made out of, oh what is that substance I’m looking for? I think it’s called, concrete…? Throw that concrete mattress into a cauldron with some brick pillows, a Maglite streetlight, non-locatable beeping watch at 3AM and a 12 pound cat running around on squeaky hardwood floors every night, chill to approximately 62 degrees no matter what the heat is set on and its insomnia stew! Maybe I wouldn’t be so ornery if it was my own stuff in the house; just goes to show we all get used to our own quirky things and that sometimes stuff is not just stuff.
If I spent most of my life traveling like a touring musician I guess it might be something I got used to but I am not a touring musician, I am a writer and I want to go home.
Admittedly, there are definitely pros and cons to everything in life right? Some of the pros -- we are right downstairs from our best friends and it has been awesome to see them more frequently, we are thoroughly entertained by a complete tweaker cat again since Scrubby passed away so long ago, there is a dishwasher, Matt’s commute has been shortened by about twenty minutes each way everyday, there is a dishwasher, there is a washing machine that does not require quarters to operate, there is a dishwasher, we have about 300 extra square feet to spread out in. Oh and did I mention there is a dishwasher?
We are not even all that far away from home, just three miles away in the same town in fact but since we are required to spend the night I feel like we are on the other side of the planet until I come back here in the mornings to write. But oddly, even though I enter my apartment everyday now, the air in here is not the same as usual. The energy that generally resides in my home is lying dormant due to lack of daily activity. It would be cool to have someone else stay here while we are gone so at least their vibe would be hanging around. As it is all I can pick up on are the teeny waves from the one, almost dead, plant in the living room and whatever slid off me from the day before.
We are due to return to our cozy and comfy abode on Saturday and the sun is supposed to be shining for the first time in about 8 days and it is due to be in the upper 70’s. Coincidence? I think not. It is fairly likely that my activities over this weekend will consist of opening all the windows and blasting some of Jason’s music to commemorate my very own homecoming. Maybe I’ll even force Matt to boogie in the living room with me just to bring the energy meter back up to high again.