Home is relative

I feel like I should write something while things are fresh on my mind.  But really, my mind is more mush than fresh.  I am just happy at the prospect of spending more than 12 hours at home for the first time in 3 weeks.  I’m glad to not be sharing a camp cabin bathroom with 15 other women, and I’m thankful that I’m no longer typhoon stranded on an island with 2 slot machines per capita, and thrilled that being sent to the wrong city in Vietnam is now a story to be told instead of reality. 

So, imperialism, family visits and stupid travel agents will have to wait.  For now, its bed time!

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