Oh, how I wish I had something wonderful to say tonight. My writing prompt for the night is: Right now you should be doing ______ instead of being on the computer.
Goodness. I should be doing dishes. I should be flossing my teeth. I should be putting couch cushions back on the couch for the hundredth time this week instead of thinking "Why? They'll get pulled off first thing in the morning anyway." I should be grateful that my daughter goes back to preschool tomorrow, rather than being thoroughly bummed that her break went so fast and wishing she could stay home a week longer. I should be sleeping so that I'm not a zombie when the Wee One wakes up at 3:00 and wants to eat.
More than that, I think part of me believes I should be running my fingers through azure blue water rather than being on the computer. That I should be in a time zone far away, jotting notes furiously in a notebook and contracting odd stomach diseases from local cuisine. That, rather than the static hum of the laptop, I should be hearing the rise and fall of babbling languages--some of which are coherent to me, but not all. That I should look odd and out of place in a sea of NOT blonde people.
Now, I'm not complaining. I'm really not. I've had a lovely day, and I have a *fabulous* life, but do you ever flip open Reader's Digest and read about the guy saving orphans in Nepal and think, "Wow. Now that guy has a calling"? Well. I do. Not all the time. I read Into Thin Air once and decided that I should stay as far away from the Himalayas as humanly possible. And when I went to Indonesia on a whim and *did* contract some odd stomach bug from eating pizza with local goat's cheese on it, I regretted it the entire 17 hour long flight home.
Strangely enough, very soon my husband will be the one taking a flight that is many hours long, over an ocean, to a different continent to visit his parents, who happen to live in the kind of country that you need some serious vaccines to visit. He'll be seeing the Atlantic from the other side, while I hold up the walls of the home we've made together. And you know what? I can't say I'm jealous. I wish I could go, to be with him. I wish I could go, to see his parents. But a yellow fever vaccine so that I can fill up on fuu-fuu, chicken, and rice? I think I'll pass.
I think it was Buddha who said that if you leave your own backyard in search of happiness, you're chasing a shadow. Maybe, rather than being on this computer, I should be making a list of all the reasons that home is the very best place for me to be right now.