I’ll let you guess which is which.
Coming home (finally) after 40+ hours of transit, the last stretches of which found you in conversation with a teammate in which you bemoaned the fact that shortly — very shortly– you would have to make or scrounge or somehow miraculously produce food for your family.
Yes, coming home to be met at the airport by Beth and your precious mother-in-law Linda, and then arriving in your Own House proper to discover that said mother-in-law has anticipated your needs and has prepared a pot of chili and cornbread for supper– and that she has, additionally, placed a half gallon of milk in your refrigerator.
And discovering, as you explore your home for the first time in two weeks and ten thousand years, that Beth has left vases of hydrangea in three (yes, 3) rooms.
Having that same wonderful mother-in-law take home to her house Several Loads of laundry and having dear Rachel also come to fetch Several Loads of laundry just to ensure that you will not be (because you were very nearly) Overwhelmed.
Coming home accompanied by a ten-year-old son who absolutely Threw Himself into the work you all did in Kenya and Tanzania, knowing that this son now has a temperature that is High and could even possibly be Dangerously High, and knowing that this temperature has been elevated for Some Time already.
Watching carefully over this son throughout that first day (Sunday) home, waiting and hoping that he will revive and thinking really he must simply revive and being tricked occasionally and from time to time by his apparent revival.
Waking before five a.m. EST (which is twelve noon in Kenya) on Monday and deciding that now is as good a time as ever to unload All The Books from All The Bookcases in your living room because the carpet guys are expected some time between eight and eleven a.m. that day and you were Just Too Stinking Tired to remove the books the night before (because although it was only seven p.m. EST it was two a.m. Kenya time)
Discovering on the morning of your second full day home that your son’s fever is approaching 104 and knowing that this Cannot Possibly Stand and so spending several hours of Monday in the UNC hospital exploring the frightening possibilities called malaria, typhoid fever, and tuberculosis.
Knowing, while you are in UNC hospital, that three very capable and slightly-English-speaking persons are tearing out the carpet in your home because you asked them to do this before you left for Kenya, not realizing that having such a huge undertaking occur might be a Bit Too Huge on the day after the day after you return from an Even More Huge vacation/trip/thing.
Coming home from UNC hospital with a weak and feverish son who very well might have malaria or typhoid fever or tuberculosis (because none of this has been or can be immediately ruled out) and talking as best you can with the slightly-English-speaking persons in Very Weak Spanish (because you are doing your best) and then sitting quietly in your house that has been Torn Asunder trying not to cry because all of this is happening right now and it just really might feel like a Bit Too Much.
Yes, I’ll let you decided which is which.
(Endnote: William’s fever is, as of last evening, gone or at least Severely Lowered and his behavior has returned (almost) to normal. We are still exploring the possibilities of something Other Than The Flu, but he is being treated for malaria nonetheless. The house is slowly (slowly) returning to normal, but there are Ever So Many books and Ever So Much Laundry to put away.)