Tuesday, 31 January 2017

Route 66



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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