I realize the title of this post sounds a little porn-y, but no. More like I am home(ish), as in that whole slow rise to the climax (again, porn) of me going home had a wee bit of a plot twist and I am now not home but in a residential hotel 6 miles away.
It went down like this: the night I left Tel Aviv, Bryan told me that Ozzy was sick. 3 year old sick, which means that no matter how many times you remind him to cough and sneeze into his elbow there's a my bad/diverting you with cute! look, and also the snot factor, a fine layer of it all over him like a homeopathic face mask. Plus Bryan was stuffy. Scratchy. And his parents are sick, too, so I couldn't stay with them. Which meant that right before I left Tel Aviv I made reservations at the only place near home that also has kitchens, since I have to prepare my own food for awhile, and then I maybe cried a little. Ok, a lot. A lot a lot. Then felt like kicking the shit out of that whole turning Why Me? into Try Me! because seriously? I have had enough. Deep sigh me.
So last night I came "home" to this residential hotel that makes me feel like I am in a bad Jennifer Lopez/Julia Roberts movie, you know, one of those movies in which they don't look like they're wearing a lot of makeup but you know they really are, and women go see it on a Girls' Night Out? Like I'm on the lam from a terrible ex or something, except when I got up this morning I could see the parking lot is full of Ford F350s with lumber racks, so maybe the clientele is more construction workers on the job at huge houses in Belvedere? I don't know.
All I know is that Zoey slept here with me last night, and oh, how it was glorious! The bestest slumber party 4eva, Minecraft and braiding each other's hair (a one-sided activity at this point in time), cuddling, talking late into the night (9pm), until she woke up with a stuffy nose and tried claiming it was just from laying down. Fuck. So I am here for who knows how much longer--hopefully Sunday--but I guess the only thing I do know for certain is I am not in control.
In other news, it's raining, hard. Which, re: still not in control, but I will say I am happy it's raining. And that all the channels are in English. I am happy that I can read the product packaging, that the milk tastes like I am used to it tasting, that the tangerines are easy to peel; I am happy that 44 miles away in either direction there is no gunfire, but most of all that I'm no longer 7,387 miles away from home but 6. Just 6. For now, I can do 6.