Coming home after a vacation is analogous to hangover. While you were having fun, you gave little thought of tomorrow. Then the morning comes and while you are reaching for the aspirin and the Visine, you regret the spirits of the night before.
The time change is only fun when you gain time. Not when you lose it. Thus, on the day we left we were on Arizona time all day and got in too late at night to feel rested the next day. For two days, my house looked like the aftermath of a hurricane sight. Maria (my imaginary maid) has inconveniently taken a sabbatical. My house is less welcoming to me when it is a disaster. For days, I had a total disinterest in tidying it up.
It took me all weekend to get that motivation.
So let’s assess the damage of the Arizona hangover:
- An unkempt house. An unkempt mom / wife. All weekend, I looked worse than my living room, which by the way was decorated in luggage that has been opened and rummaged through in a fitful attempt to fish out needed items. I had to laugh when I thought of my last post. It was all nostalgic about my desire to return home.
- Neglected pets. I think one or both of the hermit crabs did not fare well being on their own for a week. I am contemplating on whether to conduct a private investigation and subsequent funeral when my son is at school. The last hermit crab funeral was awful. I was not ready to face the questions about heaven and God again today. Maybe he’ll just forget about his little shelled pets.
- A weary child. For two days, son came home with bloodshot eyes, a head he couldn’t hold upright and a wad of homework that made my stomach flip. It was all due today. All of my neglected housework and his schoolwork had to be immediately attended to. The weekend was a blast.
- Mail, mail, mail. Bills, bills, bills.
So I am finally starting to feel a bit better. At least his homework is done and my living room is… well livable again.
Next task for me is to just get caught up on the bills today, go to class and then make a list of all the things I need to do for my school to get myself back on track. Sounds lovely.
I really adjusted gracefully to the return home. Can’t you tell?
Despite the Arizona hangover, it was still so worth it.
I have to be honest with you. I have no real intentions of doing anything this week that will help me with my studies.
I am in Arizona for the first time in my life and well, I am enjoying it.
I have made my peace with it and so must you. If you are looking for a blog about any scholastic endeavors – check back next week when I am back to the grind and am suicidal for having neglected my studies. I may need your support.
For this week, I am going to blog about my trip because so far it is pretty cool.
We arrived on Wednesday. It was basically a lost day. That is because I have a problem flying. My ears bother me and I have yet to fly without having a spastic crying fit because of the intense pain in my ears that occurs during the decent. It is great fun to be the circus freak of the airliner. The way I cope with this is a dedicated and diligent attention to drinking. So the drinking coupled with the time change made me quite pooped when we got here. No amount of awe for my surroundings could chase away the fatigue. My son and I were asleep before 7:00 local time.
A friend of mine told me that landing in Arizona would feel a lot like landing on the moon. Boy was she right. The landscape is so incredibly different what I am used to in the lush, green, upstate New York. It is really cool though. Everything is so pretty in the various shades of brown, gray and intense red, broken up by highways, cactuses and palm trees.
We are staying with my in-laws. Actually, they are the ones that paid for us to come here which, I think was really pretty awesome of them. They have a pool. It has been 90 degrees each day since we got here. The pool is about 69 degrees. They say it is too cold to swim. They are trying to explain this to my 5-year-old son. Good luck. I can’t quite understand it myself. I think the desert sun has fried their sense of temperature. Dry heat – my hind foot. 90 degrees is 90 degrees and I don’t care if you are in NY or on the moon that means pool time.
I will work them down. We didn’t bring out swim trunks on a trip for thousands of miles without giving them what they came for. If we are rushed to the emergency room for 90 degree hypothermia I will definitely blog about it. I plan to endeavor this treacherous risk very soon.
I love to live on the edge – but not more than I love to do the opposite of what my elders tell me to do. Some things never change.