My least favorite part of any vacation is coming home.
Whether I’m riding in a car or on a plane, the journey home always seems at least
twice as long as the outward bound trip. Then there’s the mail (digital and
otherwise) to sort through, the answering machine messages to deal with, and
the inevitable mountain of dirty laundry. If it’s an especially long vacation, I
come home to an empty fridge and pantry, and I have to pick up groceries and
haul them home. For a while other people made the beds, took out the trash,
cooked the dinners and washed the plates. All I had to do was sit back and
enjoy it. Now I’m the one who has to do all of that and then some. I’m back to
the real world – that depressing place with schedules, deadlines and
obligations. There’s really only one cure for this. It’s time to plan the next trip.
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