The HH completed an almost two-year project on the same day that we left for vacation in Europe in the evening. He and I had a lovely 10 days. Though he knew that he’d be “on the bench” the week after our return, he did not mind. After all, he’d spent two years commuting back and forth between Tennessee and Texas as he worked on a challenging project. A week at home between vacation and his next client site was fine.
Toward the end of the first week, he was given some work to do remotely for another of his company’s clients; that kept him happily busy. We also had appointments with doctors scattered in these weeks. By week three, he was getting antsy, emailing folks to find out if anything was “coming down the pipe.” By week four, I could tell he was getting frustrated – understandable since this amount of off-client time had erased his utilization bonus for the second half of the year. By week five (this week) resignation came that with the holiday season upon us it could be the first of the year before he would be on contract at a client site. The HH was home sick and travel sick, but not in the way most of us understand these terms.
Looking through our DVD stash, he wanted to watch Up In The Air, a movie about traveling consultants. He could not find it (I’m not sure we ever owned it). My poor hubby was so desperately travel sick that he contemplated going to Nashville International, just to sit in the airport and watch as other busy travelers scurried to their flights. Craving a night in his true home, Holiday Inn Express, he pondered traveling out of state to visit family and friends where a hotel would be in order. Finally, common sense helped him find a different way to beat his desire to travel, his need to rid himself of the “cabin fever” engulfing him. He’d take a day trip by car to Illinois to visit his mom and children there.
Oh, to the traveling man when his bags sit idle in the corner and no boarding passes await the hum of the printer. Tears for the traveling consultant who is denied the presence of “elves” who make his bed, clean his bathroom, and put out fresh towels daily. With the wanderlust denied because contracts are not signed, the poor traveling consultant must endure the purgatory of his ordinary home while awaiting the next set of project orders that will once again give him wings to fly away to new day-time adventures and nights of sweet sleep in the heavenly hotel of choice.