The early risers among you may have caught this post yesterday when I mistakenly published…
Here’s something you may not know about me. I have a hard time with reentry. It doesn’t matter if I’ve been gone overnight or for several days, I tend to flame on reentry. Just ask Dale. It doesn’t matter that I’ve missed my family and can’t wait to see them again. If the counters aren’t wiped and the floors aren’t swept, I’m going to bitch about it. And if the mail has been left to pile up for 5 days? And the dishwasher is full of dirty dishes because no one ran it
while I was gone? And the laundry’s piled up and the lawn needs to be mowed (and these aren’t even my jobs anyway), I’m really going to bitch about it. Let’s just say that the first night home was a little rough.
Granted, I was feeling the let down of a wonderful trip coming to an end, but things improved as the week went on. It helped matters that Dale and I spent a few days together focusing on the things that make it nice to live in Massachusetts.
Like lobster rolls.
And streams I can stick my feet in without having cramps because the water is too cold.
And a husband who is sweet enough to bring me flowers when he picks me up at the airport. And wear the t-shirt I brought him from Utah the very next day. And not complain when I don’t write him a birthday post on his birthday because I had to finish telling everyone about my trip. (It would be cool if you all actually wished Dale a happy 55th birthday today, even though yesterday was his birthday. Thanks, gang.)
Things like seeing the roof of my library and the sky from my topless Jeep.
And enjoying a granddaughter’s first birthday party.
I guess it’s not so bad to live in Massachusetts. Not to go all Dorothy on you, but there really is no place like home.