Warning: good-natured rant ahead.
I'm getting fairly sick of travel. First life got eventful in September/October. I have it in my head that we went somewhere but I don't remember where. Then at the end of October I went to Baltimore for nine days. Five days on the ground and then on Saturday I get on another plane for North Carolina. I have a week and a half when I get home from that one, then a week or so in Albany. This is getting old in a hurry.
It's not the individual trips. Each of the trips has something wonderful about it. In Baltimore I got to see some colleagues I don't see very often and spent a weekend visiting nrivkis
and friends. In Carolina I get to spend a little while seeing old haunts and visit clubjuggler
. Beyond that, I get to expense dinner at the Angus Barn. When I go to Albany I'll be at Kitware
for a few days doing technical work. They always make us feel welcome and are great hosts. I have something to look forward to each time I travel.
The problem is the strain of travel itself. Jet lag. Choosing between a very late night and losing an entire day when I come home. Uncomfortable, unfamiliar hotel beds. Restaurant food. Not much chance to exercise. Long stretches in airplanes. Ever-changing and Byzantine regulations on what I can and can't pack in which bags. Being away from willowisp
and the kitties. Delayed or lost luggage. Long days as we attempt to cram as much work as we can into the time we're at our destination. Losing weekends and days off. All of this adds up.
I know that my travel load is fairly light compared to many people and that I'm lucky to have advance notice of all my trips. (Well, almost all.) That's small comfort as I ponder everything I need to finish before I head for the airport on Saturday morning.
I will be so glad when December comes around. I don't have any travel at all scheduled for December. We're even staying home for Christmas.
In the meantime, I suppose I'd better go pack.