You'd think that a night off in a fancy hotel would be a dream come true. And yet I woke up all night with little panic attacks and my own form of separation anxiety.
I barely made enough milk to stash for the 48 hour trip. My flight schedule and meetings schedule is brutal. But sleep is so very optional that this is much less painful for me. Aside from the whole freaking out hormonal thing.
Other post coming on music. Trying to stay afloat with juggling work. But, oh California, how I miss you. Two days is not a fling to sate desire.
And driving by our 2br adorable bungalow with the renter's car in the driveway on the way to work is hard. The life I imagined us having is happening on another coast. Which takes all the sting out of reminiscing.
Surf, sand, and sea air are no match for the joy of tiny blooms popping up after a bleak winter. The move brought hope on spades. Something home never had.