what fun is a vacation if you don't relive it?
Get Outta Here: I Love Wrinkles
Not the ones on my face. The ones in my t-shirts. At least that’s the conclusion I’ve come to this week as I continue to trip over my bag, parked near the bedroom door, still loaded with those clothes I took to Florida.
I’ve been home a whole week now. In seven days, I’ve managed to put the dishes hubby left in the sink into the dishwasher. I answered all my emails and voice mails. I downloaded everyone’s camera cards, sorted the photos I wanted to print and sent the order off to Shutterfly. I took the dog to the groomer’s, I was so on top of it this week.
I managed to pull the bag of dirty clothes out of the suitcase and wash them. (Bonus points for me: this time they made it to the dryer before mildew set in at the washer stage and I had to start over.)
But removing the shirts and underwear I never wore, folding the shorts and putting them in a drawer has eluded me. On a philosophical level, I could wax poetic and say it’s because that signals the end of a trip I looked forward to, and I’m not yet ready to close the door on the experience.
Considering we did close the SUV door on my friend’s daughter’s little finger and really did a number on it for the rest of the vacation, I’d say that’s bunk.
The bottom line is I’m lazy. Put clothes away when I could be scrapbooking my trip? Or planning the next one? Get outta here.
(P.S. I put a few of our photos from Hollywood on the web -- the shots of the enormous ice cream treats are from the legendary Jaxson's, where we always go to pig out and wish we'd never seen ice cream when we roll out the door.)
I’ve been home a whole week now. In seven days, I’ve managed to put the dishes hubby left in the sink into the dishwasher. I answered all my emails and voice mails. I downloaded everyone’s camera cards, sorted the photos I wanted to print and sent the order off to Shutterfly. I took the dog to the groomer’s, I was so on top of it this week.
I managed to pull the bag of dirty clothes out of the suitcase and wash them. (Bonus points for me: this time they made it to the dryer before mildew set in at the washer stage and I had to start over.)
But removing the shirts and underwear I never wore, folding the shorts and putting them in a drawer has eluded me. On a philosophical level, I could wax poetic and say it’s because that signals the end of a trip I looked forward to, and I’m not yet ready to close the door on the experience.
Considering we did close the SUV door on my friend’s daughter’s little finger and really did a number on it for the rest of the vacation, I’d say that’s bunk.
The bottom line is I’m lazy. Put clothes away when I could be scrapbooking my trip? Or planning the next one? Get outta here.
(P.S. I put a few of our photos from Hollywood on the web -- the shots of the enormous ice cream treats are from the legendary Jaxson's, where we always go to pig out and wish we'd never seen ice cream when we roll out the door.)
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