Blech! AKA I'm Homesick

So I've been in a major metropolitan area in the American Midwest for the last several days, on a job-related mission, and have discovered that as time has gone by, I no longer enjoy being away from home as much as I used to.

Back before I was married, I loved to travel. To the extent I was able to, I did it with little in the way of sad-sackness or introspection. I could go anywhere and feel great doing it. I could sleep in any bed or on any flat surface. I could eat and drink whatever I wished and survive with impunity.

After I got married, that started to gradually change. I didn't notice it too much, because my general travels have involved being with my wife and, sometimes, my daughter. I did notice that travel food started to lose it's appeal and was starting to bug me. And I noticed that no bed quite replaces your own. The complaints, however, were minor.

But as I've moved from one job, which was all Portland-based, to another which requires travel from time-to-time, I'm starting to loathe trips from home. And the longer, the worse.

There are perks, to be sure. Corporate accounts guarantee pleasant food, quality lodgings, and reliable transport. But eating a dinner alone isn't fun. Sleeping alone, even in a king size bed, is miserable and uncomfortable. Being alone in a room is boring, without my wife to talk to and my daughter to entertain. And travel, in and of itself, wears thin.

Currently, I'm sitting on a floor at a big American airport, with my laptop plugged in to re-charge so that I can watch my own movies if I'm unable to fall asleep. I've been here for almost 6 hours, due to the intricacies of corporate-arranged shuttles and such, and I'm bored out of my mind. I could get some food, but I'm sick of restaurant fare. I could grab a beer, but my whole body feels polluted by foreign air and foreign surroundings. And the steak I ate last night, which is in my gut like a brick.

I'm homesick. But in 45 minutes I'll be boarding my plane, and that brings me a lot of joy.