Tuesday, June 29, 2010


So I made it back to Atlanta with lots of stories to tell and REALLy dirty feet. And I as much as I'd love to post a picture as evidence, I really can't, because then I'd have to kill you, and I'm just so not in the mood for a prison relationship right now. My life is complicated enough without having to pretend I'm someone's girlfriend just so they don't strangle me with their dental floss. But I digress.

We got back Sunday night, and unpacked right away; which, in my pre-married life, never happened. I was the kind of girl who could go for a few weeks without emptying my suitcase, using it instead as a sort-of makeshift wardrobe. Whatever was still clean was mine for the wearing, and when that got dirty I'd launder it, thus the wardrobe would move to the clean-clothes basket, then the empty side of the bed, then, if in the middle of the night I dreamed I was running up the steps to the Philadelphia Museum of Art or something, I'd kick it on the floor. And that's how I ended up on Hoarders. Just kidding.

Really, though, my former messiness (which is sometimes not-so-former) has met its match in my husband, who believes that the best time to clean/unpack/sanitize/put away is always RIGHTNOW. I'm not going to say he's militant about it, but he is not kidding when he says that right when we pull in the driveway, at the end of this 10-hour car trip during which the air conditioner broke, every one of us is going to unpack the vehicle, shake out the floor mats, and, if required, give the interior a once-over with the hand-vac. And no, it doesn't matter if you're experiencing low blood sugar or need to go potty, you'll thank me for this later. And actually, I do. Thank him. It's pretty great to have your entire car unloaded, clothes put back in drawers, and a load in the washer just an hour or so after your return.

But-even though that's all really lovely-the remnants of the vacation being in their proper place and all that, I think there was something in me, and maybe still is, that liked basking in the afterglow of a good road trip. I enjoyed the physical reminders of jetsetting, the smells of the seashore on my still-packed clothes, the last bits of sand shifting around in my shoes. Is it practical to forgo bathing for a week post-beach holiday? No, but I suppose I considered it all a sort-of living scrapbook. An eco-friendly collection of mementos requiring no expensive paper borders or acid-free doo-dads. Just my stinky self and a big pile of rumpled, sandy sarongs. I mean, who wouldn't want in on that action?

But, anyway...I meant to bring everyone up to speed last night, but needed a little more time to unwind since there was no tangible proof I'd spent the last nine days doing just that: unwinding. I actually felt a little like I'd been propelled back into the atmosphere too quickly and bits of my brain were flying out my ear like deorbiting space junk. I'm sure you can relate. So, instead of blogging, I stayed up till 2:00 am eating cold pizza, ordering internet skincare, and watching Bridezillas. And now I feel SENSATIONAL! But wait, there's more: with my qualifying purchase, I received free shipping, two deluxe samples of my choice, and a complimentary full-size coconut body scrub!

So, I feel better today. Well, actually I feel worse, but at least I canceled out the pizza with a raw blender soup I made with half a cantaloupe, some fresh basil, one large can of San Marzano tomatoes, and three cloves of garlic. I won't mention the prosciutto crisp garnish. But hopefully, last night's debauchery's got me covered, I've re-entered normal life with both my vacation memories and real-world identity in act, and life and posting will go on as planned. I've spent the last couple of hours trying to remember all the snippets of story that occurred in the last three weeks, and I guess this is why people take pictures, right? Or carry index cards and little golf pencils around in their back pockets. Overachievers. I am willing to bet my deluxe samples that in addition to being highly organized writer-bloggers, these individuals have also attended the Mr. Other People's Chicken School of Unpacking. Oh, well. At least I got the coconut scrub.

Image courtesy of A Touch of Glass's Flickr Stream


Turbo said...

I wish so bad that we could get into the habit of immediately unpacking, cleaning the car when we return from vacation. It generally ends up being a week-long process for us, and it makes me absolutely crazy.

Momma Shoe said...

You guys rock! I need to take Mr. Other People's Chicken's class. I could use a little less mess here in OH-IO. Miss you already...can't wait to read the next post:)

Deborah said...

Your husband and my husband, despite being unalike in many other ways, are clearly from the same school of travel. You and I, on the other hand, are Rose Smellers. And if that means that my shoes are disorganized and sandy, then so be it.

Glad you're home and coconutty. And that your car mats are clean. Send Mr. OPC over here when you get a chance, K? Tx.

Kjrsten said...

"canceled out the pizza" ! that's a great line.

What is it that you are wearing in the suitcase photo, your legwear looks amazing... inquiring minds want to know!