And I’m packing again. My annual summer trip to see the fam and old friends. And I’m rushing around to get all the things done before I leave.
Why is it that I have this big compulsion to clean my house before I go on vacation? I literally never have that compulsion otherwise. EVER. But whenever I know I’m getting on a plane, I suddenly need to clean everything.
Is this some kind of weird subconscious thing? Like my brain is thinking, “if I die in a plane crash I don’t want my house to be messy when people are cleaning it out?” I really have no idea. So that’s how I’ve spent today. Cleaning and running errands and getting ready.
OR maybe it's a subconsious way of ignoring the low level anxiety that comes with seeing a very large group of extended family. And friends from high school. That’s always a bit anxiety filled. And gearing up for three weeks of lots of small talk. Which I truly despise. Plus most of my insecurities and self-esteem issues can track back to some of these folks.
But it’s also a time when I get to connect with some of the people that I love most in the world. The ones who made me who I am today, good and bad. The ones who know my flaws, who've seen me in good times and bad, and who stood by me through it all. So that’s what makes it worth it.
So I’ll do the laundry. And the dishes. And make my bed tomorrow morning before I leave for the airport, even though that’s not something I do very often. Leaving a nice neat house behind to come back to.
And I’ll return to that place I call home, even though it hasn’t been my home for almost 22 years. And relive the memories good and bad.
Because that’s what I do in July. Right after I finish cleaning.
