Note: this post is not for the faint of heart. I’ll warn you ahead of time that it’s just a whiny, mopey pretense of a post. So there.
I’ve been home just over 12 hours and I’m already regretting it.
Oh sure, I was excited to see the exit signs to Philly last night… but today? Blech.
For starters, my house is not clean. I hate coming home to a dirty house. And the thing is, I tried to clean before we left. Which is why it was surprising, for example, to see that the dirty clothes hamper was filled with pre-vacation clothes. I refuse to comment further on the matter.
So, I start cleaning last night. And doing laundry like a crazy person.
And then Brad Lidge blew another save. Really, Brad? I love you but I have to come home to this?
Sigh.
And it got worse. The house was warm. No more 40 degree nights (ahh, Maine, you tease, you). Warm. And muggy. But I was tired so I managed to fall asleep about midnight.
And I was promptly awakened by the rude, terrible, horrible neighbors that threw a “Labor Day” party. That’s right. The rude, terrible, horrible neighbors who, I sense from their loud conversations, aren’t even employed. And so, they apparently get back from the bar after 1am and decide to have a loud party. Outside.
At 2am, party still going.
At 3am, party is even louder. I finally call the police. It’s already been reported, I’m told, and the police have been notified. Since there’s rarely anything else happening in my neighborhood, I’m thinking that the police will be out soon and I can go to sleep.
Nope. At nearly 4am, it’s even louder. I call again. The police are on their way, I have been assured. Some time, about 4:30am, it stops.
It’s worth noting that this house is not even on my block. They’re on the block behind mine. Yeah, that’s how loud they are.
So, I wake up this morning, cranky and tired. I’m hopeful that I’ll have some time to relax. Not in the cards. The kids are already up, making a mess in the living room and fighting with each other. Amy is whining that she doesn’t want to be a princess anymore (was she ever to begin with?). Katie starts complaining immediately that she’s starving. Charlie brings every toy that he’s ever owned into the middle of the living room. And I still have mountains of laundry to do.
No time for a run. No time for the paper. I start breakfast. Blueberry pancakes and bacon.
Lawdaddy sits down and reads the paper – the Inquirer and the Times. And later, sits down to eat breakfast, noting that I didn’t have to make breakfast (really? What are the kids eating then?). And then complains about the brand of bacon I bought. Yes, really.
So, at some point, I’m irritated. And yes, this makes me the bad guy.
I’ve decided that I hate vacation. I hate it because it never lasts and this is what I have to come back to. Blech. And blech.
You may now resume your normal programming.
