Our Chevy Traverse, MG, and I made it home from Florida all in one piece, no thanks to I-75, its construction work, and its stop and go traffic jams. After two long and tedious days on the road, I have come to loathe the word merge.
We are in the process of recovering from our winter vacation. We’re doing it in stages.
Stage One requires getting past the feeling that we are still moving down the road in the Traverse even when we we’re standing still. ::shudder::
Stage Two involves remembering where we are—at home—when we wake up during the night if nature calls so we don’t walk into the furniture or a wall in the dark. ::ouch::
Stage Three necessitates acclimating to Michigan’s wintery weather again. ::brrr::
Stage Four entails settling back into our accustomed routines and catching up. ::groan:: At times like this, I wish I were more like my Baby Sister, the Human Energizer Bunny, so I could get everything done a lot faster.
The first item on the homecoming agenda was grocery shopping. We made sure to use up any perishables before we left for Florida. The cupboard shelves were lean and the refrigerator shelves were bare. Had Goldilocks arrived before us, she would have fled in horror to the more accommodating home of the Three Bears.
Unpacking, doing laundry from the trip, and freshening the household linens were the next items of drudgery I checked off the To Do List. No sooner had I taken care of them than MG came in with the pile of mail we had the USPS hold in our absence. I dug through it dutifully. Bills, bills, bills, magazines, and junk mail. Lots of junk mail. I really must get us back on the no junk mail list. The no call list too, while I’m at it. Those cold callers and politicians disrupt what I’m doing morning, noon, and night. ::grrr::
I noted with dread that the mail pile also included an Infernal Rip-off Service tax prep packet from our CPA. Seriously? Can it be that time of the year already? O joy.
At this rate, my work may never be done, and I’ll never catch up around here. I’ll be lucky to find time to do what I love—write. ::sniffle, sob:: I’m doing the best that I can, but that time-honored saying is definitely true: The hurrier I go, the behinder I get.