Holiday hangover

You know that feeling when you get home after a really good holiday (vacation for our North American friends)….. stinks doesn’t it? At first you get home and you are all delighted to have your own bed and familiar things around you. The cat actually deigns to give you a rub up against your leg and the cockatiel screams with delight when you walk in. (C’mon Lesley don’t fool yourself – he does that when anyone walks in the room).

How quickly that delight disintigrates….. I think it starts with the unpacking. Which is pretty easy really – just tip everything into the laundry basket. There – done and done. Case is empty – ferreted away in the basement waiting for the next adventure. Climb up the stairs back to the bedroom. Oh. My. God….. look at that laundry basket. Well no time for that now.

Instead I get stuck into the backpack – diligently packing away all those back-packy things – like earplugs, sleeping mask, antibacterial hand wash, adaptors, chargers – making sure I put them all in the proper place.

Whew – I am exhausted. Not just from the packing but I just spent 24 hours flying. My own fault – I got involved with watching films on my ipad and didn’t sleep.

Before I sit down I better check the post box – of course we have this wonderful system now in Calgary where instead of the postie dropping the mail in our mailbox at the house it is dropped in a collective mail box a couple of houses down. I am not sure how much money this has saved but what the heck – I have to go and check the mail anyway. 10 minutes later I am back with a staggering amount of mail that I don’t need or want so I wade through it all filling up the recycling bin (what a waste of paper)!

Before I realise it lunchtime has arrived. Mmm – I think to myself. I wonder what the chef has as the special for lunch today. Think I will just toddle up to the top deck and have a Prosecco before lunch.

Wake up Lesley! You are home and in the middle of your Holiday Hangover. There is no room steward, no chef, no Maitre ‘D flicking out your napkin every day – and Conrad will not have made your bed and put a chocolate on the pillow. Damn!