The day I get home from one of my crazy adventures it is always the same – throw everything into the washing machine and fall to sleep in my own bed. That feeling of complete comfort makes all the days of sleeping in the back of a van or tossing/turning on a red eye flight or crawling up on the floor in the airport all fade away instantly.
Next up is a mini kinda depression. The monotony of every day life. I know it is coming and inevitable. But yet again, I get sucked down. The independence and unknown of any vacation is a whimsical experience that always comes and goes in a flash before you can even blink.
I try to combat that feeling with my wide array of extracurricular interests, but it still creeps into my brain like a nagging headache. It can be kept at bay for awhile and bottled up somewhere deep in my subconscious in the short term. An occasional long weekend will suffice my very independent genes, so I can literally taste the freedom of the open road.
Until the next opportunity to jet off, I enthusiastically scour resources to always have an adventure in the wings waiting for me to act upon it.