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Fetch

Lacking foresight, I left a good deal of my backpacking gear in Champaign. I don't understand why I had any of it there in the first place, since Illinois is somewhat lacking in backpacking destinations. My pack, sleeping bag, and tent have been in STL the whole time, making the whole situation even more absurd.
I had to drive over there and get them yesterday (yup, two more trips driving across Illinois), and I had been dreading this trip for days. It was a lot of work to recover items that should never have been left, but I think that I was just genuinely unexcited to return to Champaign.
I surprised myself. The drive was still boring (there is something about I-70 that puts me right to sleep), but it actually felt nice to pull into Champaign. I went straight from the highway to the pool and had an excellent workout, checked my department mailbox, and gathered what I needed at my apartment. I also stopped by and had a quick drink with Ryan and Sarah across the street, who were precisely where I had left them.
Lightning interrupted my swim, the mailroom was locked, my television would not turn on and allow me to check the baseball score, and the kitchen sink leaked all over the counter when I turned it on, but none of that seemed to bother me.
I have a theory. I think that it was good to return to my own space -- to be reminded that I have built something for myself, even if I do prefer to be in STL this summer. I'm not just a guy living at home. At least that is what I came up with on the drive back last night.
You know, on a hot, humid summer night, an Illinois highway is a great place to watch lightning play in the clouds. The storms are big enough and the land featureless enough that you can see all the activity for hundreds of miles.
If I don't hate Champaign after all ... I am more confused than I thought.