I realized something this morning as I got home from AimingLow’s NonConference.
Walking in the front door after being gone for four days is almost as pleasurable as the trip itself.
I love going on vacations. I have a self-esteem issue that tells me I never deserve one, however. When I was married my ex-wife had no problem spending good money on vacations. We traveled a lot, and, while I was involved with the planning, she was the one who scheduled the trip and did most of the heavy lifting.
If you’re not married and don’t go on enough vacatiosn, here’s a piece of advice:
Pick a partner that feels good enough about themselves that will drag you overseas every few years. And not to do some stupid charity hut-building. A real vacation. With porters.
Oh, and you should marry rich so you can go overseas every few years.
There is something so innocent and empty about coming back home for me. As the deadbolt turns, I feel like I’m starting my life over again. A redo. I’m such a boob that I clean the condo thoroughly before the vacation so that I’ll come home to a “perfect” place. Like I’m my own dinner guest. In my daily life I turn into a slob by day three after the vacation.
I did, however, make a tactical error when leaving on this trip. My cat has a long history of making peeps on my master bed. After researching online it seems to be a goose down issue. I used to force Prozac down her eat hole every night but she learned to avoid me and our relationship deteriorated. Cats love to pee on goose down, plain and simple. I like to pee in sinks. I can relate to inappropriate elimination.
I wanted to see, after her not peeing on the bed for six months, if she could be trusted alone in the house with fullaccess to the bedroom. I wanted her to do the right thing. She did not do the right thing.
Walking into the bedroom there was a waft of cat urine that was strong enough to make me cough. She had made peepers in four different spots on my comforter. And I have one of those nice Pottery Barn jobs.
I didn’t care. I expected it. You must lower your expectations to reality or you’re going to be disappointed. The cat pees on feathers. It’s her thing. So,once again, I’m writing from the Laundromat as the washer/dryer in the condo is a bit too small.
HOLY CHRIST – I’M HIJACKING MY OWN POST
As I was asking the staff to borrow tennis balls for the dryer (apparently that helps dry the comforter faster) I walked by a guy with my first name on his back. This has never happened before, and I suspect it will never again. I got so excited I grabbed an employee who spoke Spanish and showed her my driver’s license. Then I pointed at his shirt and asked her if I could take a photo with him. He didn’t speak english, but nodded yes.
Well, this post rambled and no points were made. Here is my name on the back of some guy’s shirt. Es bueno!
