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The Worst Thing About Coming Home: Musings on a Sad Mango

Lest you believe that everything here in Suitcase Scholar world is all sunshine and roses and segway tours and mountaintops, I thought I’d let you know about one very serious downside to travel: coming home.

As is usual immediately after a longer trip, I woke up in the dark last night and didn’t know where the bathroom was in my own house.  Of course, I soon realized where I was and located the toilet–that’s the good news.  The other good news was how I felt when I realized I didn’t have to do anything the following day.  I could go back to sleep and wake up in my normal life, not compelled to bound out of bed to explore, photograph, or otherwise enjoy anything.

And then I did wake up.  And I realized that not only did I have nothing to explore, photograph, or otherwise enjoy, I also had nothing–absolutely nothing–to eat.  Enter the photo of the sad mango.

I’ve been thinking about making a salad with that sad mango–and some equally sad arugula that I’m not even going to grace with a photo–all day.  It is literally the only food option available to me right now, unless I want to venture out into the world to find something (and I don’t).  It doesn’t help that there’s a steady rain falling and everything I own that would make my hair cooperate on a day like today is still in my toiletry bag, still in my suitcase.

Yes, coming home is definitely the worst part about traveling.  And today, with the rain falling and my sad mango mocking me from the window ledge, I’m not even soothed by the fact that my next trip is exactly one month and three days from now.  Because all I really want is a meal that someone else made for me–something well balanced and healthy, on a real plate at a real table.  Or for my suitcase to unpack itself.  Or for all three thousand of my photos to edit themselves.  But none of those things are going to happen, and it just started raining harder.

Off to enjoy my puckered mango and wilted arugula salad as a combination breakfast-lunch-dinner.  Or perhaps I’ll just wait until my next trip to eat; I really don’t want to ever go to the grocery store, and I could stand to lose a few pounds anyway.  Now, where’s that wine I brought back from Napa…?  Wine has calories, right?  Right.

 

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