I'm leaving town tomorrow morning.
Part of me can't wait to get to Virginia - where I can be lazy, eat lots, wear pajamas nearly all day, watch TV crime dramas with my parents.
But another part of me hates the thought of leaving the city. I worry (admittedly, irrationally) that the city will resent me for leaving, as though it were a beloved pet dog left behind for the holidays. I worry that something exciting will happen, and I will miss it. And I don't want to miss a thing.
So I don't want to leave.
But I do want to leave.
That's the push/pull paradox of this place.