When I'm on vacation the simplest things appeal to me

When I'm on vacation the simplest things appeal to me: the sounds of crickets in the trees, a breeze coming through the window, even the skyline above another town’s mall can look exotic.

Whatever book is in my backpack, whatever drinks we order sitting in whichever restaurant, all of it has the power to make me smile.

Why can't I get that same kind of satisfaction at home? When I am at home I am surrounding by my favorite things: my CD collection, favorite books, foods I like fill the fridge.

How is it that—more often than not—I take all of this for granted?