Depending on your point of view, the best or worst part of returning home from a getaway is how immediately the routine of daily life falls back into place. A few days later and the however brief 3 days we were gone this past weekend seems like a mere 20 seconds.
At times both comforting and aggravating, everything was exactly where we had left it in a hurried rush 3 days before. Toys were still littering the floor. Dirty dishes were stacked in the sink. Laundry was tumbling out of the basket. The cat wouldn’t stop meowing at our feet. It looked the same. It smelled the same. It felt the same.
With our pictures hanging on the wall. And our DVD’s of Over the Hedge and Shark Tale. Our stains in the carpet. Our chocolate milk in the refridgerator. Our thirsty plants. Where the kids are loud (although please, for the love of God, not too loud). Where we can lounge around in our pajamas all day. Where everything I need is under this roof. Where I am prone to lose my everloving mind.
I have to say, I do miss being able to leave our grungy, wet towels lying on the bathroom floor, waiting for the motel housecleaning service to whisk away our mess. And how Buzz was strapped in a carseat for 7 hours. That was nice.