I'm home. I'm tired, kind of sick, and ready to be done with malaria meds. I feel like I'm in a fog. I guess that's what happens when you travel for 33 hours (and cross 9 time zones). John is the only person I have spoken to since we go home (except for a five minute phone call with my dad), and I have only left the house once...for groceries.
I'm definitely still processing the last two weeks. I'm not really sure what to say about them. I want to share my experience, but I'm not really ready to talk about it yet. That seems weird to me, but maybe it's normal.
In the mean time, I am trying to get back into the swing of normal life. That is always hard to do after being away from home, but this time it seems like an especially daunting task.
I need to get back on the running bandwagon (Nike Women's Half in DC at the end of April!), unpack, and do some laundry. Until those things seem less impossible, I will continue to stick to the minimum.
