I was just having a message chat with a woman in Italy who is a friend of a friend. Fulvia wrote as her Facebook status that she was home from vacation in Zanzibar and now she was going to have to purchase and prepare her own food.
I just laughed. Some issues know no international boundaries. I felt exactly the same way last week.
Even though Fulvia is probably wandering around her market in Italy today, and I was wandering around the cavernous mega grocery last week, the feeling is very much the same.
We’re home. Where’s the menu? And the clean towels? And I have to make my own bed??
Aw . . . but here, too, is Fritz T, our dog. And the Grandpas and the Grandmas. Here is the yogurt we like. Here is our coffee. Here is a pillow with just the right fluffiness.
Here is our routine and all that is familiar.