Bye bye hotel. Bye bye vacation. The cruel trick of coming home from a few days in a new reality. It’s like coming off a drug, where you don’t simply go back to the normal baseline, but take a dip into depression before the bouncing back happens. Our final meal together, at our hometown brewery, only a few minutes away from home, I could feel us slipping back into the REAL us, not the vacation us that held hands and flirted and drank too many mimosas to keep track. Our return felt right, but the crumbs on the carpet grated against our nerves, and we slipped into checking our phones and trying to catch up on all our DVR’ed shows. The baby was clingy. The dog was barking. The grandparents wanted to hear, and tell, every detail of the weekend.
It was like being hungover. That cotton mouth, shitty sleep, headachy feeling after a long night of drinking. I think it’s worth it to go on a vacation, especially since it had been two years since we’ve had an alone weekend, but the yucky re-entry feeling sometimes doesn’t feel worth it, you know? If it was shitty on the front end, maybe, but shitty on the re-entry…it’s almost enough to make me think about holding off on another vacation any time soon. Good thing I have my Albuquerque trip in 5 weeks to get my feet wet again!
boof & monk-monk 