Isn't there something that is so uniform about the evening after you get back from a vacation? I'm always tired, no matter how relaxing the vacation was. My stomach feels a little sensitive from the flight or car trip (yes, I obviously get motion sickness). My arms are weary from dragging my bag around and lifting it in and out of taxis or up and down subway stairs. And when I walk into my apartment, it is eerily still. I put down my things, often just in a pile on the floor, and sit down, letting all of the wonderful memories from the trip overcome the bizarre feeling of returning home. Last night we ordered pizza and ate on the couch, spacing out and watching the end of The Santa Claus on TBS. It seemed fitting as we head into December.
I usually don't unpack right away. That's not a job for a Sunday night, it's part of the Monday routine, wherein you run around like crazy trying to restock your refrigerator, open your mail, do your laundry, and get ready for the week, all the while catching up on your TiVO from the vacation. (Is this all sounding familiar to anyone?)
The Sunday routine is quiet. The Monday routine is not. Especially when you get to work on Monday to find out that your Entourage crashed and all of your email has been deleted. Welcome back to the real world, Calvine!
Wright's birthday is this week, so along with the holiday parties (already??) it seems extremely hectic. Not that hectic really works, since I'm so excited for this week's events. Tomorrow night I'm cooking Wright dinner for his birthday. Believe it or not, he requested Pineapple Upside Down Cake. That is the last thing on earth I expected to hear when I asked him if he had any special requests. Seriously? Pineapple? In December? Anyway, that's what I'll be doing tomorrow night, so wish me luck!