This morning I’m sitting in the Phoenix airport, waiting for a flight to Minnesota. I’m going on about an hour of sleep (Curse you 3 am construction workers!), and as soon as I land in Minneapolis we’re packing up and driving back to Arizona.
To a lot of people, that sounds miserable. To me, it sounds like a blast.
I’ve actually only been back in Phoenix for a week now. A quick three day trip to Minneapolis in the beginning of October turned into a two week vacation, thanks to overbooked flights and the joys of flying standby.
We made the most of our extra time, visiting parks, museums, and the Mall of America, and I fell in love with Minnesota. Now, even as an (mostly) life-long Arizona resident, I almost feel like I’m going home.