We (dear wife and I) live in the sticks. People love to visit, and hate to go home to the city.
My Wife and I are always glad to get home after going to the city. Hitting that gravel road is music to my ears.
We are not big world travelers. Though we have seen most of the USA and climbed many ruins in Mexico and Guatemala. We are divers and sort of stick to the cost for our vacations.
Mostly I’m happiest getting home. There are very few destinations I like better than my own house (granted, it’s attached to 70 acres of woods and a large lake and beach).
But there’s one vacation place that the Mrs. and I love so much, that we love leaving home for it, and it’s a wrench to leave it to come home.
I love to get out and about. I adore air travel and train travel and car travel and trolley and bus. Not much for cabs and horses.
But I hate having to return home, where there is always the last minute mess I left, dishes and laundry and suitcases pulled out and spread around.
If I loved someplace else so much that I hated to come home then I would move to the place in question now wouldn’t I? I am a Southerner living in New England but I worked very hard so my native New England wife and my family have it the best that we possibly can. I get homesick when we travel back down South but I know we can’t have a beautiful antique home there in the same way we do now. We often travel to the Caribbean and I would love to stay sometimes but I know that people are relatively poor there and I would probably get irritated in a few months once reality set in. I guess it always boils down to how you think about it. There is always some place that is better than your home in some ways but the same place will be much worse in other aspects.
Definitely returning home. We’ve got an awesome couch right in front of the DVD player and cable. I know exactly where to keep my soda and the remote, and there’s nothing I love better than snuggling up to the Missus on the awesome couch and put on a crappy movie while she surfs the net and I read a book. If I’m feeling bored, the Boston Public Library and/or is only a ride on the Green Line away. We’re a young version of Darby and Joan.
Yeah, simple pleasures and routine keep us happy. Hell, why would I want to leave home in the first place?
I love to travel around and visit people, and I’m thrilled to take trips. But I sure do love coming home, taking a shower in my very own lovely shower, snuggling with my husband in our bed, and so on.
I don’t know which I like better, it’s about even. It’s fun to get out, and it’s nice to come home.
I hate staying at home, but I love COMING home. I feel more relaxed and less on edge “at home”. Leaving home is always sad for me, but I always enjoy returning home, and getting to see all my pictures, toys, and stuff again.
I’m also a Cancer, which apparently according to some horoscopes tend to be nostalgic homebodies, so I’ve always been amused that they’re right on about that part at least.
Home is where I’m happy to be there. This may or may not be the same as the address in my ID.
Costa Rica was home. Basel wasn’t. Barcelona was home. Madrid wasn’t. My mother’s address is still the one in my Spanish IDs, yet the only part of it which used to be home was my bedroom, and that got the axe when I left for college - that flat hasn’t felt like home for 22 years. My flat, although I visit it rarely, is home.
Both. When I’m leaving home, I’m always excited and eager to go…wherever it is that I’m going. (I am assuming here, of course, that we’re talking purely recreational outings, as opposed to work or doctor’s visits and the like.) My sense of adventure kicks in, and I anticipate the experience of doing something different.
When it’s time to come home, I’m excited to return. Either I’ve had a wonderful trip, and I’m exhausted and ready for my familiar comforts, or I’ve had a shitty time and am ready for it to be over. Besides, I’m anxious to get back on the Dope and see what I missed!
Depends on what is defined as home, I suppose. I’ve been living in Chicago for two years but I still think of Korea as home (mostly because my situation here is uncertain). I’m going back this June and I’m not looking forward to it, really. I have a love-hate relationship with the country, at best.
Most of the time, leaving home is sheer torment, especially if I have to go to the Cities, and coming home to my tiny farm is blissful. The only place that is better to go to than home is the North Shore of Lake Superior (especially Grand Marais), and that would be home if finances allowed.
I love travelling and absolutely adore packing up my bags to go visit someplace new and interesting, but after about 2 weeks I start to feel viciously homesick. It’s always a relief to finally get back home and flop onto my own bed for a nice long nap.
So I guess it’s a little of column A and a little of column B, depending on what stage of the trip we’re in when you ask.
(unless I’m taking a weekend roadtrip to visit my mother… I’m usually itching to turn back around and go home within 10 minutes)
Love coming home, even just from work. Our neighborhood is the only condo in the city that was built with the idea of living in a park. Old growth trees, green spaces, a view of the mountains. Turning onto our street gives us a sense of well-being.
It seems that most like coming home. While we like to travel. Getting home can feel better than getting to your vacation. Most people then seem to be choosing the right kind of homes for themselves. That’s good news.
One of the reasons that I started this thread is because of the recent gas crunch. Some people seem to think that all anyone has to do is pick up roots and move closer to work. Or simply get another job.
I sure hope this isn’t considered trolling. But I was interested to see how important home may be to folks. It’s important to me.
I guess it’s a little bit of a silly question. Like George Carlin said, home is where we keep our stuff. We have this ‘stuff’ for a reason, so I guess anyone would be glad to get home.
It’s been so long since I’ve had a real vacation, it’s hard to answer. When we go to FL to visit my husband’s family, I’m always soooooo glad to get home. Same if we spend a day or 2 with my mom.
Now, maybe if I got to spend a few month lounging on a tropical beach being served fruity drinks with little unbrellas by a scantily clad island boy… ummmmmmmmm
I’m happiest to come home. Usually I look forward to traveling and have a ball when I’m out and about, but coming home just represents total relaxation to me. Some of it is the house itself - the house is comfortable for all of us and it has the sweet, wet scent of our yard and the woods behind it. But even more than that is the idea of being where I’m supposed to be, in the schedule my family has figured out for itself, in our own habits. When we’re home alone together, we don’t have to be on our best behavior. I don’t feel guilty if my son throws a fit and my husband, son and I can do the stupid things that make all of us collapse on top of each other laughing (my son’s 2 - thanksfully too young to realize that that’s not cool); my husband can relax and walk around in his undies if he wants; and I can make horrid, lecherous jokes and not have to worry who will see or hear. Yep. Coming home is definitely better.
I like to get out and travel, but if it’s been more than a few days, I still get goosebumps when I see either a Bridge or Sutro Tower in the distance, calling me back home.
Return home. Definitely. If I’ve got the puppy with me, she runs inside at top speed, deliriously happy to be back on her own turf. If I haven’t she runs to greet me like I’ve been gone a year. Plus the SO fits in there somewhere…
