Anchor ads are not supported on this page.

4S Ranch Allied Gardens Alpine Baja Balboa Park Bankers Hill Barrio Logan Bay Ho Bay Park Black Mountain Ranch Blossom Valley Bonita Bonsall Borrego Springs Boulevard Campo Cardiff-by-the-Sea Carlsbad Carmel Mountain Carmel Valley Chollas View Chula Vista City College City Heights Clairemont College Area Coronado CSU San Marcos Cuyamaca College Del Cerro Del Mar Descanso Downtown San Diego Eastlake East Village El Cajon Emerald Hills Encanto Encinitas Escondido Fallbrook Fletcher Hills Golden Hill Grant Hill Grantville Grossmont College Guatay Harbor Island Hillcrest Imperial Beach Imperial Valley Jacumba Jamacha-Lomita Jamul Julian Kearny Mesa Kensington La Jolla Lakeside La Mesa Lemon Grove Leucadia Liberty Station Lincoln Acres Lincoln Park Linda Vista Little Italy Logan Heights Mesa College Midway District MiraCosta College Miramar Miramar College Mira Mesa Mission Beach Mission Hills Mission Valley Mountain View Mount Hope Mount Laguna National City Nestor Normal Heights North Park Oak Park Ocean Beach Oceanside Old Town Otay Mesa Pacific Beach Pala Palomar College Palomar Mountain Paradise Hills Pauma Valley Pine Valley Point Loma Point Loma Nazarene Potrero Poway Rainbow Ramona Rancho Bernardo Rancho Penasquitos Rancho San Diego Rancho Santa Fe Rolando San Carlos San Marcos San Onofre Santa Ysabel Santee San Ysidro Scripps Ranch SDSU Serra Mesa Shelltown Shelter Island Sherman Heights Skyline Solana Beach Sorrento Valley Southcrest South Park Southwestern College Spring Valley Stockton Talmadge Temecula Tierrasanta Tijuana UCSD University City University Heights USD Valencia Park Valley Center Vista Warner Springs

Home Sweet Home

Barbarella
Barbarella

What is more agreeable than one's home?

-- Marcus Tullius

I opened my eyes and turned my head to face David, my hair trailing across the white pillow beneath me. This time it took only two seconds, rather than the disorienting five or six more common on recent days, for me to realize where I was: guest bedroom in Ellen and Kirby's house, Boston . In a voice soft enough to coax a wildcat into submission, David said, "Two left," then yawned and smiled, extended his arm around my waist, and pulled me closer to him. "Mm, yeah, two," I mumbled into his neck. Eight flights down, two to go. Three gallery openings attended, four cities briefly inhabited, one new passport broken in, three suitcases overpacked, and two people exhausted from 28 days on the road.

The sweet silence of slumber had almost reclaimed me when I noticed how light the room was. "What time is it?" I shrieked, and then thought, Time, ha! I don't even know what day it is.

I jerked upright and looked at the floor, where clothing, shoes, and toiletries seemed to have been spewed forth from my luggage as though the large plastic case had found my wardrobe unappetizing.

Sponsored
Sponsored

"I'm not sure, check your phone," answered David.

"Doesn't matter," I said, "Whatever time it is, it's time to get going."

Yanked from his mellow morning mood by my nervous energy, David shed the warm fluffy blanket and flung his legs off the side of the bed. "I guess we should pack," he said in a reluctant tone. "It will be nice to sleep in my own bed again. We had a great time, though, didn't we?"

"Yeah, beh beh, we sure did," I said, pausing from folding a pair of pants to return his calming smile with a pathetic smirk. "So much so that I am as disappointed as I am relieved to be going home." I longed for the feel of my bed and craved the permanent organization of the drawers and shelves in my closet and bathroom; but I couldn't stop thinking of the other things awaiting my return, things that are not so comforting yet all too familiar -- like the mountain of bills and notices requiring my "prompt attention" that was waiting for me at the post office. Like the manila envelope leaning against my door, the one that contains the agenda for a homeowners' association meeting that I, the association's current president, must be prepared to facilitate in two days.

The thought of one task would remind me of another until my mind was racing uncontrollably and, overwhelmed by their simultaneous weight, I had the urge to say, "Fuck it," and crawl back under that fluffy blanket. Twenty-eight days is the amount of time it takes someone to make or break a habit, which is why most rehab programs operate in that time frame. In 28 days, I had become addicted to my peripatetic escapism, which is similar to heroin in that it offers immediate pleasure and eventual pain.

Traveling offered me an escape from routine responsibilities. "I'm out of town" was the coup de grace that won me temporary triumphs over external stresses. Once those words were uttered (or e-mailed), nobody pushed or questioned -- they understood the futility of doing so and respected the almighty absence in a way they never would if I had simply said, "I don't want to deal with this for a few weeks. Why? Because I have other things going on."

But even the best procrastination device can backfire. Before embarking upon this latest adventure, I had become overly dependent on one dangerous sentence -- one that I have continued, like an idiot, to employ while away: "Yeah, sure, I can do that...when I get back." Now, sitting here on the last ten flights, I try to keep track of all the things I must do upon my return. I realize I have 28 days worth of shit to get done within the next three , and I am beginning to freak out.

David, unaware of the paralyzing thunderstorm raging inside my head, turns to offer me an almond from the small crinkly bag in his hand. I stare at him, wide-eyed and unmoving. "What's up?" he asks, his hand withdrawing at my silent declination of his offer. Unable to answer, I furrow my brows.

"Just think about how wonderful it will feel to sleep in our bed tonight," David says, intent in bringing me back to the moment. He kisses my forehead and briefly rests his cheek on the same spot. When he leans back and searches my face with those penetrating, impossible-to-deceive blue eyes, I say, "I want to traipse around Soho without a worry in the world. I want to relax with a drink outside that cute Italian café near our hotel in Zurich. I want to listen to the rain as it lands on the green leafy canopy outside our room at Ellen's." I know I'm whining, but I'm unwilling to stop until the truth of it is on my lips: "I don't want to deal -- I want to stay away from everything."

"Ah, but that's not possible," states Mr. Obvious, before giving my hand a conciliatory squeeze.

"Don't patronize me," I snap. My lower lip juts forward in frustration and my brows droop dramatically.

"Are you pouting?" David sounds amused.

"No," I mumble, mentally kicking myself for allowing the weariness of travel to turn me into a grumpy five-year-old.

"Look," David says, poking me with the word as though it were a sword prodding me to walk the plank. "There's a ton of stuff for you to look forward to at home." Slapping an eager expression on my face, I implore him to convince me. "We'll get to see our friends," he tries.

"Man, I've got so many calls to return," I complain.

"There's probably some bad movie from Netflix involving a unicorn waiting with our mail," he says.

I perk up a little, but decide this is no good. "Yeah, but you won't want to watch it, so it won't be as fun," I mutter.

David thinks hard as he pushes the snack wrapper through the mouth of his empty soda can. "You have that new V.I.P. membership to Rama! We'll hang out downtown and eat great Thai food. And don't forget, Ellen and Kirby will be here in less than a week, so we'll get to show them around red-carpet style." I raise a brow. Yes, this sounds good, this is what I need, something to look forward to, a procrastinatory light in the middle of the responsibility tunnel.

"We can go to the zoo," I offer, forgetting David has zero interest in watching me watch animals.

"I can think of something even better," he says, a devilish smile appearing between dimples. "Once we're home, we can run around the house naked." He lifts my hand to his face and kisses the tip of my index finger. "We can..." now the tip of my middle finger, "escape to our bedroom..." ring finger, "and we can be..." thumb, " terribly naughty..." pinky, "and --"

"Shhh," I say, cutting him off and stealing a kiss from his teasing lips. "Alright, you win -- I can't wait to get home."

Here's something you might be interested in.
Submit a free classified
or view all
Previous article

OSHA rules wall falls our fault

Who, U.S.?
Next Article

Didja know I did the first American feature on Jimi Hendrix?

Richard Meltzer goes through the Germs, Blue Oyster Cult, Ray Charles, Elvis, Lavender Hill Mob
Barbarella
Barbarella

What is more agreeable than one's home?

-- Marcus Tullius

I opened my eyes and turned my head to face David, my hair trailing across the white pillow beneath me. This time it took only two seconds, rather than the disorienting five or six more common on recent days, for me to realize where I was: guest bedroom in Ellen and Kirby's house, Boston . In a voice soft enough to coax a wildcat into submission, David said, "Two left," then yawned and smiled, extended his arm around my waist, and pulled me closer to him. "Mm, yeah, two," I mumbled into his neck. Eight flights down, two to go. Three gallery openings attended, four cities briefly inhabited, one new passport broken in, three suitcases overpacked, and two people exhausted from 28 days on the road.

The sweet silence of slumber had almost reclaimed me when I noticed how light the room was. "What time is it?" I shrieked, and then thought, Time, ha! I don't even know what day it is.

I jerked upright and looked at the floor, where clothing, shoes, and toiletries seemed to have been spewed forth from my luggage as though the large plastic case had found my wardrobe unappetizing.

Sponsored
Sponsored

"I'm not sure, check your phone," answered David.

"Doesn't matter," I said, "Whatever time it is, it's time to get going."

Yanked from his mellow morning mood by my nervous energy, David shed the warm fluffy blanket and flung his legs off the side of the bed. "I guess we should pack," he said in a reluctant tone. "It will be nice to sleep in my own bed again. We had a great time, though, didn't we?"

"Yeah, beh beh, we sure did," I said, pausing from folding a pair of pants to return his calming smile with a pathetic smirk. "So much so that I am as disappointed as I am relieved to be going home." I longed for the feel of my bed and craved the permanent organization of the drawers and shelves in my closet and bathroom; but I couldn't stop thinking of the other things awaiting my return, things that are not so comforting yet all too familiar -- like the mountain of bills and notices requiring my "prompt attention" that was waiting for me at the post office. Like the manila envelope leaning against my door, the one that contains the agenda for a homeowners' association meeting that I, the association's current president, must be prepared to facilitate in two days.

The thought of one task would remind me of another until my mind was racing uncontrollably and, overwhelmed by their simultaneous weight, I had the urge to say, "Fuck it," and crawl back under that fluffy blanket. Twenty-eight days is the amount of time it takes someone to make or break a habit, which is why most rehab programs operate in that time frame. In 28 days, I had become addicted to my peripatetic escapism, which is similar to heroin in that it offers immediate pleasure and eventual pain.

Traveling offered me an escape from routine responsibilities. "I'm out of town" was the coup de grace that won me temporary triumphs over external stresses. Once those words were uttered (or e-mailed), nobody pushed or questioned -- they understood the futility of doing so and respected the almighty absence in a way they never would if I had simply said, "I don't want to deal with this for a few weeks. Why? Because I have other things going on."

But even the best procrastination device can backfire. Before embarking upon this latest adventure, I had become overly dependent on one dangerous sentence -- one that I have continued, like an idiot, to employ while away: "Yeah, sure, I can do that...when I get back." Now, sitting here on the last ten flights, I try to keep track of all the things I must do upon my return. I realize I have 28 days worth of shit to get done within the next three , and I am beginning to freak out.

David, unaware of the paralyzing thunderstorm raging inside my head, turns to offer me an almond from the small crinkly bag in his hand. I stare at him, wide-eyed and unmoving. "What's up?" he asks, his hand withdrawing at my silent declination of his offer. Unable to answer, I furrow my brows.

"Just think about how wonderful it will feel to sleep in our bed tonight," David says, intent in bringing me back to the moment. He kisses my forehead and briefly rests his cheek on the same spot. When he leans back and searches my face with those penetrating, impossible-to-deceive blue eyes, I say, "I want to traipse around Soho without a worry in the world. I want to relax with a drink outside that cute Italian café near our hotel in Zurich. I want to listen to the rain as it lands on the green leafy canopy outside our room at Ellen's." I know I'm whining, but I'm unwilling to stop until the truth of it is on my lips: "I don't want to deal -- I want to stay away from everything."

"Ah, but that's not possible," states Mr. Obvious, before giving my hand a conciliatory squeeze.

"Don't patronize me," I snap. My lower lip juts forward in frustration and my brows droop dramatically.

"Are you pouting?" David sounds amused.

"No," I mumble, mentally kicking myself for allowing the weariness of travel to turn me into a grumpy five-year-old.

"Look," David says, poking me with the word as though it were a sword prodding me to walk the plank. "There's a ton of stuff for you to look forward to at home." Slapping an eager expression on my face, I implore him to convince me. "We'll get to see our friends," he tries.

"Man, I've got so many calls to return," I complain.

"There's probably some bad movie from Netflix involving a unicorn waiting with our mail," he says.

I perk up a little, but decide this is no good. "Yeah, but you won't want to watch it, so it won't be as fun," I mutter.

David thinks hard as he pushes the snack wrapper through the mouth of his empty soda can. "You have that new V.I.P. membership to Rama! We'll hang out downtown and eat great Thai food. And don't forget, Ellen and Kirby will be here in less than a week, so we'll get to show them around red-carpet style." I raise a brow. Yes, this sounds good, this is what I need, something to look forward to, a procrastinatory light in the middle of the responsibility tunnel.

"We can go to the zoo," I offer, forgetting David has zero interest in watching me watch animals.

"I can think of something even better," he says, a devilish smile appearing between dimples. "Once we're home, we can run around the house naked." He lifts my hand to his face and kisses the tip of my index finger. "We can..." now the tip of my middle finger, "escape to our bedroom..." ring finger, "and we can be..." thumb, " terribly naughty..." pinky, "and --"

"Shhh," I say, cutting him off and stealing a kiss from his teasing lips. "Alright, you win -- I can't wait to get home."

Comments
Sponsored
Here's something you might be interested in.
Submit a free classified
or view all
Previous article

Making Love to Goats, Rachmaninoff, and Elgar

Next Article

Angry Pete’s goes from pop-up to drive-thru

Detroit Pizza sidles into the husk of a shuttered Taco Bell
Comments
Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed Big Screen — Movie commentary Blurt — Music's inside track Booze News — San Diego spirits Classical Music — Immortal beauty Classifieds — Free and easy Cover Stories — Front-page features Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts Feast! — Food & drink reviews Feature Stories — Local news & stories Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore From the Archives — Spotlight on the past Golden Dreams — Talk of the town The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it Letters — Our inbox Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news News Ticker — News & politics Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated Poetry — The old and the new Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers Reading — The hunt for intellectuals Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds SD on the QT — Almost factual news Sheep and Goats — Places of worship Special Issues — The best of Street Style — San Diego streets have style Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves Theater — On stage in San Diego this week Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads Your Week — Daily event picks
4S Ranch Allied Gardens Alpine Baja Balboa Park Bankers Hill Barrio Logan Bay Ho Bay Park Black Mountain Ranch Blossom Valley Bonita Bonsall Borrego Springs Boulevard Campo Cardiff-by-the-Sea Carlsbad Carmel Mountain Carmel Valley Chollas View Chula Vista City College City Heights Clairemont College Area Coronado CSU San Marcos Cuyamaca College Del Cerro Del Mar Descanso Downtown San Diego Eastlake East Village El Cajon Emerald Hills Encanto Encinitas Escondido Fallbrook Fletcher Hills Golden Hill Grant Hill Grantville Grossmont College Guatay Harbor Island Hillcrest Imperial Beach Imperial Valley Jacumba Jamacha-Lomita Jamul Julian Kearny Mesa Kensington La Jolla Lakeside La Mesa Lemon Grove Leucadia Liberty Station Lincoln Acres Lincoln Park Linda Vista Little Italy Logan Heights Mesa College Midway District MiraCosta College Miramar Miramar College Mira Mesa Mission Beach Mission Hills Mission Valley Mountain View Mount Hope Mount Laguna National City Nestor Normal Heights North Park Oak Park Ocean Beach Oceanside Old Town Otay Mesa Pacific Beach Pala Palomar College Palomar Mountain Paradise Hills Pauma Valley Pine Valley Point Loma Point Loma Nazarene Potrero Poway Rainbow Ramona Rancho Bernardo Rancho Penasquitos Rancho San Diego Rancho Santa Fe Rolando San Carlos San Marcos San Onofre Santa Ysabel Santee San Ysidro Scripps Ranch SDSU Serra Mesa Shelltown Shelter Island Sherman Heights Skyline Solana Beach Sorrento Valley Southcrest South Park Southwestern College Spring Valley Stockton Talmadge Temecula Tierrasanta Tijuana UCSD University City University Heights USD Valencia Park Valley Center Vista Warner Springs
Close

Anchor ads are not supported on this page.