Last night just shy of 10 pm, my plane touched down from Montana, marking the end of my whirlwind vacation. Well, really Minneapolis, and before that was Salt Lake city, before that came Montana.
It was a long fucking day of travel feeling like death warmed over, so when I finally hauled my heavy-ass carry-on with the non-functioning extendable handle to the curb where Matt was waiting to see my smiling face, I was very, VERY relieved to be home. And dead tired. And someplace that didn't smell like airport. And you know, within actual arms-length of my boyfriend.
But today, I'm not quite as thrilled to be back in the Midwest.
Actually, I'm pretty pissed about it.
I miss the mountains.
I had an exceptional visit, despite a bit of altitude sickness and it being winter in one of the coldest places in the country.
So today, I'm back in corn country. Where it's flat. And there are no mountains in ANY direction, let alone EVERY- at any distance my eyes see. And it's kind of a drag.
Here's to hoping the mountains are part of my future again real soon.
There is something about the mountains and the ocean that is really calming and awesome and cannot compare to cityscapes/corn fields. Actually for my job I've done a lot of research on the relationship between proximity to nature and happiness/stress levels and there is a very clear link!
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