It’s hard to come back from vacation. Here are my top ten least favorite things about coming home after a break:
10. Traveling. Airports stress me out a little. What if someone’s slipped black market heroin into my bag when I was in line for Cinnabon and they won’t let me back into the country? Then there’s the flight itself. The seats aren’t completely uncomfortable but sitting between a fat man and a strangely pale French assassin for twelve hours makes for a sleepless night. Driving is another animal. The trip home, void of vacay excitement, is twice as long and compromised of traffic, accidents, Taylor Swift and horrible Burger King iced coffee. When is teleportation going to become a reality? I’m so ready.
9. Unpacking. So many things to put away. So much laundry to do. Help.
8. Food has calories again. No longer can I drink Bahamas Mamas and French Martinis without fear of the consequences. The cheesesteak (Pat’s!) that didn’t count in Philly won’t fly back in Virginia. Also, I’m a pescatarian within state lines. Crispy Spicy Beef, it was real while it lasted.
7. Someone’s snuck into my closet and replaced all my clothes with smaller sizes. Every time I come home from vacation. Who are you? It’s not funny.
6. My bills all greet me excitedly as soon as I walk in the door. Apparently my landlord expects me to pay the full rent even though I’ve been gone for four days. Whatever.
5. People frown on you for drinking before noon. Post-Vacation Angela cries a little and orders decaf coffee instead.
4. I’m not as interesting in Virginia. My cute, barely-there southern accent doesn’t get me a free Malbec from the hot Australian-Italian bartender like it did in NYC. I just live here, and yes, I can give you directions.
3. You can’t spend like a Trumpefeller. $8.17 for a Chocolate Cereal Milk Shake at Momofoku, while perfectly reasonable on vacation, is strictly prohibited on American soil. I could buy groceries for a week at Aldi with that kind of money. The budget is back. Womp womp.
2. You can’t give your phone number to a sexy doorman after sliding down a Firemen’s pole in the Upper West Side. This only happens on vacation. If you do this at home, you will have to go on a date with said doorman and he’s probably not a Christian. Those eyes, though!!!
1. People expect me to go back to work. Why, Jesus? Why?
Back to reality, but fighting hard.