Make me miss home so badly it hurts.
I think part of my problem is the fact that the Army has plopped me right in the middle of a city. I can live in the city. Hell, I met the Ragin' Mrs. while I lived in downtown Seattle. But I go to bed with the noise of cars and sirens and all the other assorted noise that a city makes, and I wake up to it. I work in it. I drive in it, and I'm sitting here in my back yard smoking a cigar and typing while thousands of people drive by on the road just on the other side of my fence.
And meanwhile, I know that there's ten acres of land in Idaho just waiting for me to build a porch on a house, and sit there while I listen to the owls hoot at night. Smoking my cigar, of course.
You want to know what it was like at my childhood home? Go look at the photos in the link. We didn't have chickens or cows, but I did raise pigs, and we had our own garden. And once I retire from this life, I'll have it again.