During yesterday’s ride home from Virginia, JG and I both made the mistake of wearing shorts and long-sleeved t-shirts. We were prepared for the possibility of sitting in traffic, broiling in the sun, like we did on the way down. We were not prepared, however, for the cloudy, rain-spattering skies above us and a brisk breeze to boot. After a quick and yummy lunch at Chipotle (woo!), I broke into my suitcase so I could exchange my shorts and flip-flops for jeans and flats. A chilly house and quasi-freezing temperatures outside greeted us upon arrival. Welcome home, indeed. I pride myself on being of hearty New England stock, that mid-Atlantic winters are a mere shadow of what I’m accustomed to, but making the transition from basking in the sunlight to curling up with blankets would be rough for even the most hardened of us.
Coming home from any time away from home is always difficult for me. I am slow to unpack, do laundry, and reconstruct the debris that comes with traveling. Because we did our best to clean out the fridge prior to departure, JG and I had to make a grocery run so that we’d have meals for the next few days. It’s interesting and a little sobering how quickly I grew accustomed to a continental breakfast and two meals out everyday. What, we have to cook now? And do dishes? Boo, hiss.
When life hands out cold grayness and a relatively ordinary existence, I have a few strategies to make myself feel better. I exercised one of them and picked up a handful of springtime at the supermarket floral department today. On another level, JG is helping me to accept the winter cold by making homemade macaroni and cheese! The aroma wafting over from the kitchen is fabulous and we will have exactly the right dinner to accompany new episodes of The Office and CSI tonight.
This vacation “routine” of sleeping in, catching meals as I can, watching Barefoot Contessa, and reading as much as I can makes me selfishly yearn for some sort of quarter-life retirement. Oh, to have a life of leisure.