Let it be known that I NEVER deal well with returning from vacations. Last April, upon returning from two weeks in Europe, I wrote this email to my friends on my first day back at work:
“Returning from a vacation is eerily similar to the human digestive process. Think of the trip itself as an enormous, delicious meal. Then, as the vacation nears its end, your body starts to hurt a little as the food turns to crap and the crap sends out the gaseous warning signs of things to come (the flight), only to return home and, for the first 48 hours, shit your brains out. Sure, you feel better after it's all over and eventually, after some fiber, your bowels will be back to normal; but the memory of the meal lingers much longer. And the 48 hour shit ends with you walking down 23rd street in the rain biting into the crust of a piece of pizza and chipping a tooth.”
Granted this time I didn’t chip a tooth [ON A PIECE OF PIZZA], but since my epic 24 hour, baffling time-zone changing trip home I have:
– Cleaned out my re-broken refrigerator AGAIN! If an appliance could feel pain I would have my refrigerator’s nuts in a vice.
– Had a conversation with The Girlfriend that included the word “baby.” Sure she was only talking about her friend’s baby, but still it’s a difficult word to hear after 8 days in Maui.
– Saw a guy pick his nose and wipe it on a pole in the subway. I was too tired to even give him the “You sick son of a bitch” glare. I think I tried to give it to him, but it probably came off more like a “I have something in my eye and do I know you from somewhere?” look.
– Came into work to a stack of papers, most of which have nothing to do with me. They all had post-it notes on them with messages like: “I can’t get this to work!” or “Follow up.” The “Follow up” note was attached to a letter faxed to another attorney last Tuesday asking them to follow up on a previous request for a copy of a letter. I wish I was kidding.
– Slept for a total of about 8 hours, which, when compared to amount of time spent on conveyor belts in O’Hare airport and on a completely full plane desperately trying to ignore Wallace and Grommet and the same episode of “Will & Grace” I watched on the way to Hawaii, works out to about a 1 to 3,000 ratio.
– Had my luggage arrive back in New York about an hour and a half after I did. Actually, this wasn’t such a bad thing. At that point I was so worn out from the plane ride that I figured them delivering me my luggage saved me from having to roll it the hundred feet from baggage claim to the taxi outside. (If I had a video of it, as well as knowledge of how to use video in my blog, here is where I would insert the tape of me and my friends standing at baggage claim jokingly yelling, “Booooo!” every time a new bag came out that wasn’t one of ours. Then, five minutes later, looking around as no more bags were coming out, everyone around us had left, I had no luggage and I say to my friend, “Boo?”)
So, in the interest of sparing everyone my complaining, I’m holding off on any sort of meaningful writing until tomorrow. Because let’s face it – I was just in friggin Hawaii for 8 days. Me complaining about it would be like this woman complaining about her new dog peeing on the kitchen floor.
P.S. I’m literally laughing at the use of the term “meaningful writing.”