Rumor has it I was on vacation...

I have a confession to make. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but sometimes I look forward to coming home from vacation. This is more likely if I've been sharing a hotel room with my children and I'm tired of having to go to sleep at a reasonable hour. Or I'm tired of them keeping me awake past my bedtime. Or I'm tired of living in a space that resembles their bedrooms. If the beach is factored in to this equation it's even worse because I grow weary of dumping sand out of bathing suits, and shorts, and towels, and shoes, and buckets, and chairs. I find sand in the tub, on the carpet, and in my bed. Everywhere I turn there's a body scrub waiting to happen.

Regardless of whether I'm looking forward to the return to my daily routine or I'm dreading settling back into my ho-hum existence, the exit strategy is always the same for me. Once I've decided it's time to go, I want to go NOW. No lolly-gagging. No dragging it out. All the dirty clothes get shoved into one suitcase, everything else gets packed willy-nilly, and we toss it all haphazardly into the van. Then we all fall asleep and leave Rob to the driving, though I occasionally I stir to ask him if he's still awake.

Within moments of arriving at our heavenly abode, the reality of home sets in again:

• A week's worth of laundry even if you've only been gone for two days
• Sorting out everything that was thrown willy-nilly into any old suitcase
• The stench in the bathroom where someone forgot to flush the toilet
• Dog pee in the tv room; poop in the basement
• The dust and hair bunny family waiting at the front door 
• The ensuing allergy attack compliments of the dust bunnies, dog, cat, and guinea pig
• 238 work emails and 5 office messages, 57 personal emails and 2 phone messages (the percentage of which are not junk? Maybe 5%)
• The stack of daily newspapers reminding you of how much bad stuff happened while you were living in fantasy land
• The stack of bills letting you know how much you owe from your trip to fantasy land
• The sand that followed you home and is now pouring out of every suitcase, towel, bathing suit, shoe...

I have officially been home for 3 hours and 23 minutes. I've sneezed 62 times. And, you guessed it, I need a vacation. But this time, I'm going to go as my nephew William. This kid does vacation right!