Okay, so I miss the sound of the ocean, the beach, the bikes. Blah blah blah. But honestly...sleeping in my own bed last night was borderline orgasmic. Really. And trust me, nothing like that was happening in tent-ville the past ten days. Yes, there was a lot of family bonding going on, but not that kind.
So, the ceiling fan was gently whirring overhead as I climbed into bed last night. The sheets were clean, and sand-free. And the comfort. Yes. Okay, I moaned. Although, as a side note: it's occurred to me that maybe my all-nighters in the bed of sand (with a few ants) was a kind of full-body exfoliation. Every time I turned over, I got polished. Who knew camping could be so spa-like?
But my own bed. I can feel it calling, whispering softly. Stop typing. Come lie down. The laundry can wait. Maybe that's a good idea. Re-entry into one's regular life can be a bit trying, scary even. So, maybe I need to get horizontal, stretch out.
Thirty minutes tops.
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