"I tried to fight it for 2 days, but I eventually couldn't help myself, and I've fallen in love with my little house. It doesn't feel like some old lady's old house. It feels like mine. In the evening, after I get off from work, I take off my jacket, put on a sweater, and my slippers... the same slippers that were way too hot on my feet at home. I spend the evening trying to find something decent on TV, or finding something to organize. I go to bed underneath a big comfy goose down comforter. My sleep is uninterrupted." - January, 2004

In a few days, MW and I will be heading out for our vacation in... ever. Sure we have taken small jaunts and roadtrips, but this will be a proper take-time-off-work-and-have-a-budget-for vacation. I'm not sure what the itinerary includes, besides a two night stay at a Super 8 (ooooh, I know, we're fancy), and a detour to the lovely little village that I called home for one year.

In this village, I gradually fell in love with MW, from many miles away. It seemed like everyday I had to decide between my heart and my career. Eventually, my heart won out. But in the meantime, I had so, so many formative experiences. Sexy and I chose each other as inter-species life partners. I had many visits from many different friends, some whom I hadn't see in years. I had monsters under my bed (literally). I spent days without power in the blustery winter, using melted snow to flush my toilet. I had the local police fingerprint my little house. I had to give my own prints, which are probably still on file. I tried to get my license, and failed miserably. I learned so much about sexual health, and confirmed that this wasn't just a passing fancy, and I really did enjoy this type of work. I flooded my kitchen with a washing machine built in 1927. I had a standoff with the garbage company. I had threatening letters written to me. I learned that vodka is not a proper marinade for beef. I felt the painful question of "what if?".

Although I have visited there quickly since leaving, somehow, this trip feels different. It feels like, by going back there, I'm saying to myself "look, it all turned out great, no need to wonder anymore".