Painting Pictures of Egypt

I might not be a good artist, but I can paint a pretty stellar picture of Egypt.  My heart is still in Bolivar these days.  I have moments of, "Wow!  I love Wake Forest!"  I have this thought when I drive past either of the two (yes, two!) Sonics in town and remember that happy hour is THREE hours long instead of two hours like in Bolivar.  I have this thought when I see green grass and pretty flowers instead of extreme drought.  But then I spend literally two months trying to find a stinking car wash in Wake Forest and get so unbelievably frustrated.  In Bolivar I could be to one of three or four car washes in 5-7 minutes.  I know this may seem like a simple, ridiculous example, but when this sort of experience is the norm for three months it can be utterly exhausted.  Nothing is "easy" here.  So many things seem incredibly time-consuming.  For example, I drive an hour to work and an hour and a half home each day.  When I spending two and a half hours in the car I can't help but think, "If I lived in Bolivar I would be able to get to work in ten minutes even if my office was on the complete opposite side of town."  And of course my mathematical side kicks in - hmm....2.5 hours a day x 5 days a week = 12.5 hours a week x 52 weeks = 650 hours in a year or 27 days a year.  That's right, at this rate I will be spending one month a year commuting to and from work.  How ridiculous is that?  It's so easy for me to think about all of the other productive things I could be doing with that month - sleep, work out, spend time with Robert, make dinner, clean the house, socialize, relax.  Basically, here's a simple breakdown of my life:
Wake up
Get ready for work
Drive to work
Work
Drive home from work
Eat dinner
Get ready for bed
Sleep
Get ready for work
I'm utterly exhausted.  When I get home I just want to sit and be comatose. 

Once again, Sara Groves sings that words of my heart.  Her song "Painting Pictures of Egypt" makes me cry every single time I hear it.  I didn't want to leave Bolivar.  To me, Bolivar is a wonderful place.

I don’t want to leave here
I don’t want to stay
It feels like pinching to me
Either way
And the places I long for the most
Are the places where I’ve been
They are calling out to me
Like a long lost friend

It’s not about losing faith
It’s not about trust
It’s all about comfortable
When you move so much
And the place I was wasn’t perfect
But I had found a way to live
And it wasn’t milk or honey
But then neither is this

I've been painting pictures of Egypt,
Leaving out what it lacks
The future feels so hard,
And I wanna go back!
But the places that used to fit me,
Cannot hold the things I've learned
Those roads were closed off to me
While my back was turned!

The past is so tangible
I know it by heart
Familiar things are never easy
To discard
I was dying for some freedom
But now I hesitate to go
I am caught between the Promise
And the things I know

I've been painting pictures of Egypt,
Leaving out what it lacks
The future feels so hard,
And I wanna go back!
But the places that used to fit me,
Cannot hold the things I've learned
Those roads were closed off to me
While my back was turned!

If it comes too quick
I may not appreciate it
Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?
And if it comes too quick
I may not recognize it
Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?