I really did not want to be in San Diego this week.
Classes just ended, so I was looking forward to some less-than-12-hour work days.
I had re-stocked the fridge with gorgeous produce from the organic foods co-op.
I was looking forward to being home in the evenings and cooking dinner again.
I had no plans to get on a plane on Sunday night.
Then my day-job called, and my plans changed.
|Ready for takeoff...|
"I don't wanna go!!!"reverberated through my living room. I sounded like a petulant toddler. Then I got stuck next to one on the flight. (Nothing like adding insult to injury! Or was this karma biting me in the ass? Either way, I digress...)
Tantrums aside, San Diego is still home.
Work was less than catastrophic. By mid-day, it was actually pleasant to be in the office.
And then I got to run in Balboa Park. It was a glorious run. Cool weather! Great friends! Trails! Hills! All of this was followed by great dinner conversation with my friend, S.
Sure, I'd rather be at home with Hubby, watching the season finale of HIMYM (spoilers will be shot on sight!) after a lovely dinner that involved the swiss chard I'm sure will be spoiled by the time I return...
But if I have to be away from Hubby and Peanut... If I have to postpone my dream of home-cooked meals and shorter work-days... If I have to be wedged into a seat for 3 hours next to a bouncing/kicking/screaming 2-year-old...
I could certainly do worse for a destination.
I should remember:
I get to come here.
|San Diego skyline at night|
Are you ever a reluctant traveler?
(I must admit, I normally love the adventure that begins with printing my boarding pass, no matter where I'm going... Being not-so-keen on this trip was an odd break from tradition that I hope will not become the norm.)