Why you may not have seen me at work

Or, The bliss that is staying home sick.

I love being at home when I have fresh flowers. It seems like a waste not to be here while they're still in top form. And I have been home the past few days. Lazing about the apartment, having called in sick.

And I'm my favorite kind of sick: slightly sore of throat with a voice somewhere between pirate and Marge Simpson. I'm a bit congested, but not so much that I can't sleep comfortably, which I've been doing most of the past two days. In a word, blissful. Granted I'm only ever awake about 3 hours at a time, but after working tirelessly for 6ish months, I'm, well, tired.

My goal is to become at the very least, uncongested by time I hop on the long flight to Beijing. Flying at 30,000 ft. with excess sinus pressure = no fun.

All day the intro to Heima where I'm suppose to click Play SetUp or Chapters has been playing its song. Something like record player static with wind chimes and the sound of a baby sleeping. I am in a good mood.

It feels good just to let work things go for a few days and think about me. About China and Iceland and what to do afterward. About how I think I could feel good about spending more time working on green things. Plants, conservation, green energy, organic farming. I want to feel like my days are mine again. Like I am me the whole day, instead of just when I'm at home.

I think I have learned a lot about various things by working. About getting things done, and checking in with yourself to make sure you're doing the stuff you wanted to do. About how there will be points where you just can't do everything and you have to make decisions. And all of that learning is telling me I need some adventure. I will go to Iceland. And maybe to Sweden and islands of the Scottish highlands. Or to France and Spain. I will read and play music and find out what is happening in the world. And how I can make a difference.

And it feels better working knowing that I'm preparing for a next step. Knowing that there is an end in sight. Only it's not an end. It's all kinds of possibility. Even if possibility includes retreat and ending up penniless in Seattle, where I started. I haven't read the Brothers Karamazov, but I imagine it would have something to say about that.