Every time I come home from a trip, I wonder whether I want this to truly be my theme song.
I'm never sure of the answer.
At the end of a busy trip, with a long, exhausting drive home, I feel even more tired when I see the things that weren't done while I was away.
Then I feel ungrateful, for not just appreciating all that was done during my absence.
Then I wonder- would I really like coming home and seeing that my absence made no difference whatsoever; that everything sailed along just as smoothly without me?
Does my disgruntled grumbling have a smug edge? A satisfied core? A sense of, "Well, obviously they do need me after all!"?
I think it does.
I came home from a trip last night. I made the drive in record time (not speeding- I just didn't stop much), but I'd made such a late start that I got home a little after eleven thirty at night.
I did notice, and appreciate, that the dishwasher was running.
I did notice, and appreciate, the baskets of clean laundry in the living room, that were washed while I was gone.
And I also found myself prowling around, looking for proof that they just can't do without me!
[giant eyeroll at myself!!!]
I took the rotting chicken from the fridge, and tossed it in the trash. [See! Without me, things just fall apart!]
I grumblingly watered houseplants. [Does nobody water these but me?! Every time I leave, the same plants are nearly dead by the time I come home!]
[giant eyeroll at self, followed by "face palm"]
I am certain I am not the only one who does this.
I do, in fact, suspect that this is a fairly common human condition,
but that does not make me any less disgusted with myself.
I think most of us probably wrestle at times with this quandary; this flip-flopping between appreciating proof that the world does not fall completely apart the moment we step out the door, and dismay at all that is neglected in our absence.
I'm sure it's not just me.
[face palm, shaking head at my own relentlessly consistent inconsistency!]