TRAVELING MAY BE HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HEALTH

I knew it would hit sooner or later.  Later is good.  I can procrastinate with the best of ‘em.  
 
Yes, I can live with later. I think. 

It’s not really as bad as you might think.  In fact, as far as crises go, this one is rather tame.  It doesn’t involve drugs nor will the IRS or fashion police come knocking on my door. 
 
Have I mentioned there’s a down side to travel, aside from the fact it’s a rather expensive hobby? I didn’t think so.   

I’ve just hit bottom a little harder than usual this time; the bottom called reality. This is the real housewife of Chicago settling back in, minus all the drama. All the dining out has given way to the stove and the kitchen sink.  All the new friends and acquaintances have taken their places on the back burner. And the new sights and experiences have been reduced to the same predictable routine I endeavored to escape while traveling Europe.   
 
My funk is obviously nothing a little time away won’t cure.  Wait!  That's the problem.  We're home for the next month!  Jimmy is in the basement replacing a furnace that's seen better days.  I've seen better days.

I know.  I’m sounding a bit like Scarlett O’Hara, the exciting chapters of my life now Gone with the Wind.  I’m back to Tara, and the life of one less than exciting Chicago housewife.  Gone are the days when every new day was a new port in a new city, filled with more adventure than anyone deserves much less can continue to pay for.  I’d even learned to live out of a  suitcase.  It took me days to unpack from my last trip. Change is never easy. It's hard giving up the nomadic lifestyle.

There is a suitcase under all my belongings.

My dresser feels cavernous, although my closet is still small!  There’s no long lines anymore followed by the obligatory TSA scrutiny, or heaven forbid, a pat down.  The only lines I can find now are at the grocery store checkout.  Those kids know nothing about being nasty. They also have no idea life is an Amazing Race and Jimmy and I are falling behind!  I don’t like being in last place.  
 
I don’t like living on a budget either.  Worrying about how I'm going to pay for all this travel is so boring, so middle class.  Oh, that's right.  I am middle class.   

I can feel myself becoming boring again with nothing to add to the conversation beyond my expertise at clipping coupons.  My Facebook page is filling up with the same predictable dribble I thought clever before I had more to offer via travel.    

Nobody warned me travel could be so addicting, my life at home so mundane.  I think  suitcases should come with a warning label like cigarettes.  In big, bold letters stretched across those bland carcasses (with space for adding your personal information, perhaps) the manufacturers should caution, in big, attention grabbing CAPS!: “TRAVELING MAY BE HAZARDOUS TO MAINTAINING THE MONOTONY OF THE 9-TO-5”; or up the ante and throw in some clout: “THE SURGEON GENERAL HAS DETERMINED THAT TRAVELING MAY MAKE RETURNING HOME HAZARDOUS TO YOUR MENTAL HEALTH.” 

Let's tell it like it is!

You think!  This far into my funk I’ve really bared my soul as well as a few loose screws.  Addictions are never pretty.  

Maybe it’s time for an intervention.  
 
Yes, yes!  Welcome, Ben & Jerry!  All the way from Vermont, aye.  How nice of you.

My new friends, given the only traveling I'll be doing for a while is down memory lane.

I may not find any answers at the bottom of that pint of Chocolate Therapy, but there’s more where that came from. There’s half baked, too!

I told you I'd seen better days! I don't think the bedhead look is my best look.

Mmm.  This half baked isn’t half bad.  In fact, it's a trip. 

Gotta get my travel in any way I can.