This may be the first time ever that I’ve not looked forward to traveling. I was back in San Francisco for less than a month since my last international jaunt, and work was intense. We moved our offices from the Presidio to the Financial District. Moves are stressful, even when you think you have thought of every possible snafu. Because most likely you haven’t.

I had just opened all my mail from the last time I was gone and cleaned my apartment when it was time to pull out my suitcase and pack for this trip. Initially I was excited that I would only be gone for 12 days. 12 days – that’s the least amount of time I’ve traveled for this job. It’s not a month, or 6 weeks, or 3 months. It’s a mere 12 days, a blink of the eye. I’ll be back home before anyone even realizes I’m gone.

At SFO, I just felt tired. When the gate agent complained that she couldn’t figure out my ticket, and wasn’t sure where my bags would end up because my ticket was half electronic and half paper ticket, I didn’t have the energy to react. I couldn’t question, I couldn’t smile, I couldn’t fight. I simply looked at her, shrugged my shoulders, and asked if she had any recommendations on where to look for my bag. Hong Kong? Bangkok? Kathmandu?

As I entered the Red Carpet Lounge, another passenger asked me how to get to a particular area. I answered, not comforted by the fact that I had the wearied look of a traveler that had been there too many times before.

And I hate this. In theory, I think that I want the opportunity to travel. I love working with our in country teams. I realize I’m incredibly lucky to have the opportunities I do to travel and experience new things. So why am I dreading it? Why do I want to spend just one more night in my comfortable bed in San Francisco?