Back “home”.

I come home after a near marathon-of-hell that has consumed the past 5 weeks of my life. Some things still work, some things do not. I’ve learned the vital lesson from previous trips (I’ve lost count on how many I’ve taken this year alone) that German engineered automobiles do not take loneliness lightly and tend to revolt against their owners in such times of distress. As a result of not being used for five weeks, my car decided to deposit all of its power steering fluid on the ground, loose a little bit of coolant, drain its battery completely (this was my bonehead mistake of not disconnecting the terminals), and have the backing of the passenger front chair de-laminate. And oh, the oil light comes on randomly, despite plenty of oil IN the engine, and then will vanish.

Add to the fact that my toilet now leaks more than it should function every time I flush, and the hot/cold knob on my shower broke off, I’m convinced my bathroom is in cahoots with the car.

It’s weird being back in my apartment. It feels alien to me. I’m so used to either a well-made hotel room or a stiff bed also known as the husk of what was my childhood room back home. First time I opened the door to observe my wonderfully Swedish furniture still waiting like a loyal pet,  I felt as if the past month nearly never existed. Of course, once I came to find all the various malfunctioning objects around me, I came to understand what a cruel mistress time can be. Seriously, you try living without a functioning toilet…I dare you.

I almost want to throw everything that isn’t furniture away. Got back to the hotel ways I’m used to.

I am both relieved and saddened about leaving North Carolina. It is nice to be away to the semi-madness that can be family matters, but it was nice to be a part of the solace that only the mountains of western NC can give. There are no stars in the skies about me here in humidity-laden Florida. There are no sounds of various woodland creatures outside my window (Although if I close my eyes, I can almost hear the distinctive “chikka-chikka” noises that are common in NC summer nights). The only cool breeze brushing against me is made by my A/C unit, not from the wandering winds from the windows. Those items will always be sorely missed, but I feel as if I was beginning the connect to ghostly objects during my Carolinian stay. There are various reasons why I left the mountains, and I felt as if some of those reasons were starting to come back to me.

But I’m not claiming St Petersburg to be the land of milk and honey, either. I still have a ghost or two here.

At least I can *finally* sleep in my own damn bed for the first time in what has felt like ages.

Goodnight. Whoever you are.