Coming Home... Eventually

There are a lot of things that are hard about being an adult: two weeks a year hardly seems like a vacation, bills kind of suck, sulking can no longer be chalked up to being an angsty teen, and after you leave the nest you can't seem to find Mac & Cheese as good as mom's ANYWHERE.

But one of the worst things about growing us is that the world expects you to quantify everything about your life, usually in terms of monetary value. Let's forget about life insurance; I'm sure I'm not "worth enough" at this stage anyways. But how could I possibly be expected to put a price tag on my time, or someone else's time? I'm not even talking job- or project- wise, hourly wages are a whole other ballgame. But as I stare at the dozens of over-priced flights and compare multiple carrier and discount sites until my eyeballs are about to burst, I can't help but think how unfair it is that I must make the decision between $50 more or an hour and 20 minutes more time with my family. Is that hour and change worth $50? It is worth $100 to have an extra two hours? Is my waking up at 6 am worth the $45 it would save me? Is being able to have Mom's dinner three nights instead of two worth the almost $100 extra that flying in the evening would be?

It's enough to make a girl want to crawl back to her apartment and spend the holidays alone.

I'm just tired of having to make decisions about how much things are worth to me, because in the end, I always end up feeling like I've been cheated. I suppose this is because when it comes to things like time, and effort, and love, you can't just quantify- you just can't. You can't put a price on your life, regardless of what the bank or the insurance company or anyone else tells you.

xoxoxoxoBon
ps- I absolutely loved our weekend together. I had the time of my life :)