Always, when I come home after being away for more than a day, I have this sense of dislocation, like the house is a pair of jeans stiff from dryer. You have to wear them for an hour or so before they feel right. And so it is with coming home. I love coming home, but I do not like the not-fitting feeling, and so I keep moving, busy, putting away still-clean clothes and piling up the laundry, stowing the suitcases, cleaning the debris from the floor of the car. When everything is put away or at least set aside out of sight, the feelings of strangeness finally drop away, and I can relax again.
It was a very good trip and I'll have more to say about it later. For now it's just good to be home.