I deactivated my Facebook account today. I wish I’d been brave enough to delete it, but there are too many relationships there that do have meaning for me so I just couldn’t do it. But I had to unplug myself from the madness. I need to disconnect my mind from the collective conscious [sic].
Other than our trip to Paris in April, I’ve been working 50 hour work weeks since January. I’m exhausted in every way a person can be exhausted. I need to go home. I need my family. I need peace and quiet. I need my own kitchen.
The Airbnb commercials they are playing these days about Airbnb being your home? Well, that’s my life. Airbnb is my home, and strangers’ houses have been my home now for over two years. I’m weary. I’m both lonely and socially over-stimulated.
I started another blog, Building Our Love Shack, in the hopes I could write about building our house, but I have no time to write anything. I’ve cast all my pearls upon Facebook and they’ve been stamped into dust.
I thought I had something more to say, but apparently I really didn’t.
I think I’ll just spend some time being silent.