Back in Isolation or is it Routine

It's been a week and a half, and I have slept in my own bed for five nights now and I feel a kind of restlessness, rested but restless, like something is missing. You know how, when you are infatuated and totally unclear about the emotion, but you can't let it go. You know it seems silly to be so over the top about someone, but there you are. It's that kind of restlessness, online there are so many sites that offer the perspective, that those feelings are actually obsessive, but then I guess all the love poetry in the world is like that, maybe poetry and writing in general are obsessive. Look at Stephen King, all of his stories are ones of obsession by someone or something. Perhaps that is what will come of all of this, a need to realize the obsession. A way to channel the need for it. Perhaps obsession is what the drive is that gets us up in the morning. In a way, I feel that way about work, a kind of dread and then jumping in without looking, hoping I will surface in a functional way. Hard to believe that all of that training can be undermined so easily. 
This morning I listened to the birds again, looked out at the treat that fills my whole downstairs window and hides the prairie. Last night I walked in circles because I could and because the prairie itself is so far away.