Look, I am happy to be home. I missed my husband and my kids and my cat and my diabetic dog and even my mother who insists upon wearing her outside shoes on my inside rug. But, this does not mean life is without imperfections and dissatisfactions.
A very philosophical person would probably say that you can make your life what you want and your choices are your own and that if you find yourself moving begrudgingly when washing the dishes, you should recalibrate, find gratitude in the action of dishwashing and embrace the simple. I mean this is all well and good, but is entirely counter to the human experience of being chronically dissatisfied, endlessly seeking pleasure, desperately trying to find easy ways out and of course, avoiding all painful things as one would avoid the plague.
Since I am an authentic, full-bred human being, I will not even pretend that I can embrace the simple or truly recalibrate in anyway. I am kicking and screaming my way back to normal; and well I think that is normal, right?
Today, I did not even have to prepare any meals (I just napped or hid during meal prep time). Nor did I wash any dishes (even though I used as the analogy above). I did have to navigate a handful of tantrums (big and small), attend sporting events (but not find uniforms, Mike did that!) and ice my ankle (I somehow fell in Haddon Township, after a week of traipsing through medieval streets). None of this was particularly difficult, but it was begrudging. Tomorrow, I will have to return to my full life, also begrudgingly, but alas, I am sure I will love it, or find a way to meditate through it. . .
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