Traveling does weird things to me. Whenever I return home from a trip, everything feels odd and disconnected. It's been a week since I returned from Florida, and now I'm wondering, was I ever really there?
Packing and unpacking are horrible tasks. It took a week, but I'm finally unpacked. My suitcase has seen better days, that's for sure. With every trip I take with it, more pieces break off from the inner frame. The cover looks like someone was jumping on top of it with steel-toed boots, like a trampoline. As much as I'm looking forward to (one of these days) getting a new (indestructible) suitcase, the romantic in me loves all its snags and holes and jagged edges and scuffs. It makes me feel like I've really been somewhere.