By Vicki Brown
I HATE coming home after vacation. I am usually tired, fed up with riding in a car for hours, and dreading having to unpack.
Then there’s the unpacking. A mountain of dirty clothes and smelly beach towels have to be washed while makeup, shoes, phone chargers and personal hygiene paraphernalia have to be put back. I detest unpacking. And did I mention I HATE coming home to unpack?
Today was “coming home” day. I woke up already cranky and moody. Then I started whining.
“Can’t we just stay here? Can’t I just stay here and you go home, sell everything, and come back?” I asked pleadingly. I have said that about every place we have ever visited and every vacation we have ever taken. My husband braces himself every year…he knows what’s coming.
To shut me up, my husband took me to get donuts. That pacified me somewhat and put me in a better frame of mind. At least I quit whining. Donuts work that way for me.
Why is it that every place you visit on vacation seems better than home? I am pretty certain that people living in those vacation spots have quite a bit they don’t like about their hometowns, too. In fact, I KNOW this to be true.
We took a boat ride one day while on vacation and the boat’s owner, Captain Mike, let a remark slip about how onerous tourist season was.
“I love living here,” said Captain Mike. “But it does get rather irritating from May through August and then at Christmas time.”
I told him he could tell the truth, and did locals use a snide nickname for tourists?
He looked sheepish and answered, “Well, yes…we call them terrorists instead of tourists, and say it’s time for terrorist season.” I had to laugh, even though he was talking about me, and I didn’t see one single dolphin or manatee on his cruise as advertised.
Home isn’t really so bad…usually. It’s just knowing that you have to get back into a routine and pay bills. You know…the bills you rang up while taking boat cruises like Mike’s where I didn’t see a single dolphin or manatee as promised on the advertisement.
Sigh.
But this time, coming home from vacation was worse than usual. Why, you ask? Simple.
My beloved husband was in such a rush to leave for vacation, he forgot to do a few really important things.
First, he forgot to take off the trash.
Now, returning after a week, the trash itself was a new experience in horror. I am surprised that paint wasn’t peeling on the kitchen walls from the odor coming from the trash can. My eyes stung and I caught my breath in shock. The entire house reeked.
I opened doors and windows and cut the air conditioning back on. Check. I hope no birds died in the airing out of the house. Next, I went to look over my beloved outdoor plants. They were beginning to wilt, so I ran to get the water hose.
But when I turned the spigot…no water. Wait. What?
In this day and time, it’s always a tremendous shock when you turn on a faucet and nothing happens. Life ceases to have meaning. I yelled out to my husband, “Did you happen to pay the water bill before we left?”
Silence. Then he came slowly in the room.
“Uh, I guess I forgot. I will go do that right now!”
He flew out the door, drove to the water department and unfortunately found them closed. I guess this meant that a bottled water bath was in store for me and my plants. It would help if it rained.
I mean, while on vacation, it rained. Every. Single. Day. Sure, there were a few dry hours here and there, but where is that rain now? Seriously?
Well, I decided that I had a better idea. A friend had a swimming pool, so I decided to go and swim the dirt away. I put on my bathing suit, but when I got there, the pool was broken and no one was there. So, spying a water hose, I grabbed it, stood on the back porch and washed every nook and cranny while wearing my swimsuit. As I was toweling off, I happened to glance up to read a sign that said, “Smile, you are on camera”. I guess my friend got more of a view than she bargained for.
Sigh. So when I say that I wish I didn’t have to come home this time, I’m not kidding. I really mean it.
