Thursday, July 9, 2009

Please Keep Your Hands And Feet Inside

I have just returned from a lavish and relaxing vacation and I am depressed. This kind of depression has several levels. The first level starts while still on vacation. This is more of an annoyance over having to re-pack (if you have to re-pack children this elevates the level to an actual low grade depression.) My "going away suitcase" is vastly different from my "coming home suitcase." When I pack for my vacation everything is neatly folded. There's an order to it. I may even have a specific outfit put together right there in my bag ready for a night out. There have been times my suitcase was a fucking work of art. Packing my coming home suitcase is another story. I bear no shame in admitting I don't even un-ball my underwear. Shit is crammed in haphazardly and frankly my suitcase is a tell tale sign of my psyche. I don't want to go home.

The next level is a little sadder. I can't believe I have to leave this beautiful new home. I like this home. They clean my room and make my meals. I can use 100 towels if I want to and as long as I leave them ON the floor, new ones appear the next day. In the blink of an eye I'm home unloading dirty balls of clothing and half empty bottles of product wrapped in stolen hotel washcloths. Although thanks to Al-Qaeda I am now forced to transport my products in a gallon size zip lock. Fuckers. I still stole one washcloth for good measure. I lament over my pictures and re-tell funny stories but basically this just sinks me deeper into my depression. I start to go about my daily life and although it's nothing to complain about, it's just not the same as vacation.

This leads me to the task which has snapped me out of vacation depression and thrust me into a state of mind I am not familiar with. Tonight I ordered my daughter's uniforms for Kindergarten. In addition I had to order her "spirit wear" for gym days. Although I never had to wear a uniform and have certainly never uttered the words, "spirit wear" I have been returned to my youth. Holy shit! I am about to re-live school through my daughter's experiences. I am strapping myself in as this may be a bumpy ride.

*I didn't really use 100 towels as I was slapped in the face with a buzz kill card on the vanity telling me about Florida's water shortage.

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