Not A Second Home

Tomorrow begins a three-day weekend. In the morning, I'll head up to Vancouver to see Lor. I'll help her move into a new apartment and shop for things to fill it with. Hopefully, when I'm not helping her to settle in, I'll be able to get away and do something constructive, like writing.

Except for the drive, I never look forward to the Vancouver trip. It's good to see the girlfriend, of course, and there are hikes and other activities which are fun. But Lor seems to think I should treat Vancouver as a second home, to feel as comfortable there as she does when she comes to Seattle. I don't, and it's unlikely that I will. At home, I can do my own thing. I can get things done. It's mine, and under my control. I know my own home and can take liberties there. When I'm in Vancouver, I often feel that my time is wasted, largely because I have no intention of building a life there. I simply have no interest in becoming attached to the place. The chances of my treating it as anything more than a place to meet Lor are very slim.

This is a poor description of my feelings on the matter, but it's all I have at the moment.