I’m ready for another vacation … please

I’m back!

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My love.

Okay. I’ve been back for a few days.
It doesn’t look much like it though.

I still have half packed suitcases. Several in my bedroom, each opened and rifled through, with random colorful articles hanging half in and half out into the floor. One would think I am living out of them. One would be mostly right.

It’s not that I’m lazy, it’s that I still don’t have that hand maiden / personal assistant / volunteer slave I’ve been asking for.

I’m really busy catching up on my shows on the DVR, deleting voice mails and dragging myself back to work. Ironically I’m doing the same thing there, deleting more emails and cleaning out my email inbox trying to catch up on work gossip.

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I simply don’t have time to unpack and clean up after myself let alone my family. There should be vacation time after a vacation just to pull yourself together. A few days maybe to detox your liver and unpack. Time to hang up all your flowered shirts to the back of the closet again, and to wash and put away display proudly all those obscenely large souvenir drink glasses.

All this vacation crap. I need to do something with it besides ignore it and take a nap.

It’s a glamorous life I’m living.
We are approaching day 5 of post vacation and I had to pull my sandals from a pile of rumpled tee shirts declaring a successful Daytona trip from the bottom of a sandy suitcase.

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We definitely brought some sand back with our suitcases, gear and souvenirs.

Just add it to the normal house clutter we left when we exited the house to go on vacation in the first place.

The clutter that still needs to be cleaned up from 2 last weeks ago. I don’t know where it all came from.

The sand I mean. I’ve got an idea about the clutter.

We rinsed and shook and otherwise left enough sand in and around the hotel that I was sure we weren’t bringing any back.

Now I see I was wrong. So wrong. So very wrong.
The dust bunnies are building sand castles in the corners of the stairwell.

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There are still clothes to be unpacked and washed. The beach gear is still in the front room, stacked in a corner. It will continue to wait, either be put away or carried back to the car for the next trip. Chances are it will still be there for next time.

You wouldn’t know I took a week in the gorgeous sun, day drinking on the beach and crashing pool parties by night.

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except for the dark circles under my eyes

and the tell-tale peeling of my sun burned shoulders

Cardigans over my summer dresses and some concealer under my eyes. Working magic over here.  I look tan, refreshed and pulled together. Except for the fact I’m talking to myself about the fact that I’m still mess under this disguise.

Being a woman is sorta awesome, you can go from ship wrecked and floating on a board for weeks to paparazzi ready in about 10 minutes. or 30.

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If only I could use my magical woman powers to clean this vacation mess. If anyone has any post vacation tips to share I would appreciate it.

Feel free to leave your comments, I will either mock you or sing your praise.
It’s a 50/50 gamble.

Kinda like finding my favorite shorts in one of these suitcases …

Beer slushy, monkey poop and a beach trip.

I have a full life. There are not enough hours in my days or days in my week.

What I want to do, what I would like to do and what I need to do are entirely separate.
Similar to a zoo, without the zebras, elephants, lions and monkeys it’s just a few caged animals. All together it’s a zoo. Like my life right now.

A freaking zoo. A strange new attraction around every corner.

If I start charging admission maybe I can afford a snow cone machine with a beer option.

That might actually solve all my problems now that I think about it.

I don’t sleep enough, I dream too much, and I can relax rarely. It’s catching up to me.

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Every day. Monday – Friday

My career choice keeps me on my toes, it’s unforgiving some days. Lucky for me I have the next week off. Sort of. Mostly.

I’m fairly certain at least once a day my thoughts will be consumed by a “problem child” … anyone who has ever worked an advocate position knows exactly to who or what I refer.

I find it similar to what having a fire-breathing, baby animal eating, dragon as a pet might be like. As much as your job is to please the masses there are some you simply can not. Sadly, like a pet dragon, you can’t exactly just find them a new caretaker. You can’t dump them at a nice farm-house in the country. Nobody wants to deal with an asshole of a pet dragon. Even when you go on vacation. Still your my problem.

wpid-f531c7312407d88733ef3de72ddaa157.jpgMy children (as offspring often are) happen to be entirely dependent on me to entertain them, feed them and house them in a comfortable home. The same home which they are constantly being told to clean their messes from.

The laundry is ever piling, the fridge constantly emptied and the noise ever-present.

The bathrooms are always smelly and the toilet paper rolls are always empty.

There are dirty, mismatched socks and single shoes in random places and I’m pretty sure I nearly stepped on another Lego.
The Wi-Fi is slow and the cookies are gone. A sure sign they are hiding somewhere watching Netflix while I mop the sticky substance from the kitchen floor.

They are too big to put in a basket on the church steps. At least I think so. If I have to play “guess the smell” again I might hit up the container store for the biggest basket I can find.

My spouse who I give my conditional love makes me absolutely crazy sometimes. Like now. She’s making me lose my mind. right now.

You know those plaques and signs in the zoo which tell you about the animal you’re standing in front of? Well marriage doesn’t come with those. There are no guides or maps. There are no little foot print marks to tell you what to do or where to go next.

Not at all like this. I would be alright with this.
Not at all like this. I would be alright with this.

You are on your own. If you get lost and can’t find your way, the next step could lead you into the boa exhibit where you will be squeezed lifeless and consumed.

Ok, that was dramatic but that’s what marriage feels like. sometimes.

We are about to head to a beach front hotel for a week. Just us. Sounds like a romantic dream doesn’t it? Now throw in a tiny budget and little sleep. As much love as we have we are only human and sometimes it’s not always coming up roses. I keep looking for her hand, maybe together we can reach the exit door of the aquarium building and stop feeling like we are under water.

imageAll we need to do is get to the warm sunshine outside the exit door but it’s elusive.

and I’m too tired to form the words for directions.

and I’m too pissed off to ask her which way to go.

remember how I said sometimes she’s an asshole? Yeah that.

I miss the days of throwing caution to the wind and leaving with nothing but a bikini and a toothbrush for my next adventure.

Unfortunately I am trying to keep up my zoo. If anyone finds the door labeled “beach – this way!” let me know.

Until then I’ll just be over here with my beer slushy, teaching monkeys not to fling poo.