Although I’ve been out of touch, my blog has not been out of my mind. And here I am getting back into the swing of things with my new list for the Top 5 Things I Hate About Coming Home from Home. Wait, wait, what did that say? Did she make a mistake? No, let me explain. I live and have a house in the suburbs of San Diego but my home and my heart live in the suburbs of Philadelphia. It’s much harder to come back to San Diego from a trip to Philly than any other vacation. Usually I’m happy to come back to my familiar bed and routine, but never after Philly.
The Top 5 Things I Hate About Coming Home from Home
5. Every time I come back to San Diego, I leave the cool (and sometimes downright freezing) temperatures of the Main Line of Philadelphia and arrive to a heatwave. It never fails. And because I’m coming back from the 30’s, 40’s, and 50’s, I end up sweating profusely for days as I attempt to adjust to the 80’s. We never used to have extended heat waves but here we are–past the mid-point of November and we still have the air-conditing on.
4. There are no trees here in San Diego. Well, not real trees. Bushes pretending to be trees and scraggly eucalyptus trees that fall over at the hint of a Santa Ana wind coming their way. And let’s not forget my least favorite: palm ‘trees.’ The trees in the fall on the Main Line of Philadelphia are beautiful beyond words. I wish I could express how much I love the trees but as John Muir has said, “Going to the woods is going home.”
3. Back to inauthentic people. Yes, there’s lots of plastic around here, and Botox, and Restylane, but it’s the lack of authenticity here that’s truly lacking. My girlfriends and I had a waitress ‘down the sho’ (translation: down the shore which means “I got into my car and drove to the shore of New Jersey.”) who was an in-person Roz from Monsters, Inc. The only thing she had that Roz didn’t is about 5 layers of black eyeliner outlining both her eyes. She rocked the no-longer-in-style black circles. She owned it. Around here, nobody would be caught dead looking less than a runway model. It doesn’t stop there with being inauthentic. People seem to present one way but can be quite different on the inside.
2. I don’t have too many friends here in San Diego. Sure, I have surface friends or the friends who want to sell me something but I don’t have the deep connections I have with the gals from back at home. We can go a whole year without speaking or seeing each other and it only takes about a minute until we’re right back where we left off. I miss those girls fiercely. I wish I had those kinds of friends here but mostly I am alone, and although I’m an introvert and usually don’t have trouble running around solo, there’s something about coming back to nothing that gets to me. The silence is louder this time.
1.The final thing I hate about coming home is how dirty the house is. “Finally,” you’re thinking, “she’s not going to bag on poor San Diego. What did San Diego do to her anyway?” Yes, I typically keep a clean house and when I go home, I expect to see it not quite the way I left it but this time was really bad. Stacks of mail not dealt with, dog hair in balls everywhere, dirt from the outside inside, dishes piled up in the sink, dog poop as far as the eye could see (outside, but still…)and garbage overflowing the cans in the bathrooms. My husband and kids had left food from before I flew to Philadelphia in the refrigerator so it was moldy and fragrant in the bad way. How hard would it have been to feed the bad food to the garbage disposal?
I’m making progress on the cleaning at a snail’s pace because I don’t care as much as I thought I would. Sure, it bothers me to have my house in disarray but to be perfectly honest, coming back home from home has me more depressed this time than others. I’m waiting for the gloom to pass so that I can get happy and move on to the holidays.
How do you feel when you come back from vacation? Are you living where you’re supposed to be or are you dying where you are?