I'm getting the feeling that I will need a holiday once every two years or so just to keep myself going. A good holiday. For a month. I will choose my countries based on whether the exchange rate is in my favor. And I will go alone.

It's been about 24 hours since I've been home. The jet lag surprisingly hasn't hit me that hard yet. I've been going to bed at normal hours (circa 10 pm, 4 am african time) and waking up early (6 am, 12 pm african time). The hardest part has been reconciling Nancy now with Nancy then.

I've been wearing the same 6 shirts for the past month, and now my closet suddenly seems preposterously ridiculous.

I bought this cheap little 7 dollar blue rubber watch for the trip. It was convenient because I could swim with it and take it into the shower. I didn't realize it would make me an idol among the campers, who were fascinated by the blue backlight at night. When I returned home, I saw my regular seiko watch and diamond ring sitting on my dresser where I'd left them. I put them back on, and my hand looked so foreign to me that I took them back off again. They're still sitting on my dresser and the blue rubber watch is back on my wrist.

Not just that, but my collection of high heeled pumps and winter boots looked bizarre as well. As if they belonged to a different world. Did I really used to derive joy from these things? Was it only because there was so little to derive joy from in my former life?

After all, being in Africa was the happiest I've been in years. Travelling, freewheeling, AND male attention (somewhat unwanted) - even despite my baby mullet due to 5 weeks of unchecked hair growth. What more could a girl ask for? I'm generally miserable when I'm in the States. Not that it's all -that- bad. Misery makes great fodder for sarcasm and jokes. But its hard to fill that void when you live in a culture of materialism. So you fill it with the only thing available to you - materials. To think, buying a new shirt used to make me happy. Why? Because it would make me feel prettier. Jesus, who cares.

Am I a changed person? I hesitate to make such a leap. Perhaps I am for the short-term, but the long-term remains to be seen. After all, it's hard to fill that void that used to have 10 year old African boys who scream "MAMMY!" and then cling to your waist. You know, the ones who cry in their sleep on the last night of camp and then crawl in to sleep on you, patting your face sleepily and mumbling "Me love you." I don't know what's going to fill that void now. I do know that I used to cram it with other things. I do know that when I was corporate, the void became so yawning and gaping that no amount of alcohol or pretty clothes could fill it. I'm waiting to see.

I start my new job on Monday.