Life on the road

At first it was a novel thing; bouncing from hotel to hotel, getting room service (hah!), generally just living the high life, with work paying the bills.  Then you realize that all you do on the road is eat a fattening american dinner with alcoholic coworkers, listen to their epic wife stories which are completely blown out of proportion, and drink a few beers until you can go to sleep with feet running all over on the floor above you in the hotel.  It really actually kinda sucks.  In an ideal life away from home, I'd be seeing the sights at each new town I visited, walking the mainstreet, checking out the nearest waterfront trails, generally just not being bored out of my mind in a hotel room looking at the same websites every hour to see if anything new was put up.
REALITY:
Most of the towns I visit are logging era towns that have already seen their heyday and now are trying to crawl back out of the depths of economic meltdown.  The mainstreet isnt worth visiting because the Walmart opened down the street and all the mainstreet shops are out of business, the waterfront trails are where you go to score more meth, and people are generally morbidly obese and unfriendly unless they are hotel staff being paid to be friendly to you.  On the rare occasion I do get to visit a nice place like Chico CA (last month) I am generally too tired to do anything because I got up at 5am and drove around for 10-14 hrs (strangely exhausting) in a pickup on shitty dirt roads to look at clearcuts (not exactly the pristine forest I would like to be visiting). 
Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the problem solving and constant newness of the work I do; there's never a dull moment when planning a new project.  Its just that these projects generally mean being away from Colleen, home, cats, my garden, climbing, and all the wonderful friends I have.  Hotels are neat at first, but when you look at a hotel room and see "home" for the next 4-7 days, it is a little depressing.  I don't know how long I can keep it up.  I mean, I have missed more Tuesdays at Bombs Away because of weeks away in the last three years than I missed in all of the 6 years before that combined.  What kind of life is this?!?

Time to pass the fuck out to toilets draining down pipes in walls 12" from my head and several children running back and forth somewhere nearby (if it wasn't so socially unacceptable I might consider playing tag with them; it sounds like fun!).  I cant wait to be home.  1 week.