Sunday, September 16, 2012

Vacation hangover.

We are back from the beach. It's good to be home.

I have SARS.

Well, or I have pneumonia. Or bronchitis. Or a chest cold. Or invisible weights in my bra that are causing my chest to feel all smooshed.

The lady next to me on the plane yesterday was really nice, so surely she didn't get me sick. I mean, I gave her my magazine and everything. I think my lung malaise must be due to my sudden fall from pampered grace. So far today, no one has offered me a perfect bloody mary. And while it's nice to see my own backyard, said backyard does not feature a beautiful beach.

Obviously, there's an adjustment period.

I'm also trying to come to terms with the fact that there were a few things about my vacation that made me feel like an old biddy.

1. I missed my dogs. Like, really, really missed my dogs. I did not call the dogsitter and insist on speaking to the dogs. This is positive. Also, I managed to stay married. This is also positive. And, since I hoard dogs, not cats, and own no housecoats? No worries. Right?

2. One of the waiters around the pool recognized me from years past. He was welcoming. However, my gut reaction upon seeing him was, "Dave? You still work here after 4 years? What are you doing with your life? Do you have any retirement savings at all?"

Luckily, I had this conversation in my mind, not out loud. But when your first impulse upon seeing a cute, tan pool waiter is to question his 401k or lack thereof, you are well on your way to middle age. And being the buzzkill at the few social events to which you manage to get invited.

3. An adult beverage or 2 no longer means blissfully falling into a peaceful slumber. No. It means that Old Lady Cha Cha has a bloody mary at lunch, a beer at dinner, and then is wide awake until 2 a.m., reading Wikipedia and wondering if her husband's snoring is a sign that he needs a sleep mask and, if so, if she could borrow it and go as Darth Vader for Halloween. Or Arbor Day. Or any day she felt like dressing as the dark lord. Or maybe she could take the Darth Vader mask and call or sneak up on Dave the Pool Waiter and terrorize / coerce him into saving for retirement. You know, like how Marty McFly used his Walkman and hazmat suit to scare his dad into asking his mom to the Enchantment Under the Sea dance?



jenn said...

Love # 2! I've been having a lot of those You Know You're Middle Aged When moments myself. Hmm, I feel a post brewing.

Anonymous said...

Okay, your mental conversation with the waiter REALLY made my day.
And thanks for not calling the dog sitter to ask to talk to the dogs because really? I'm afraid I'd have judged you harshly.

Rainbow Motel said...

Yep. I'm hearing you loud and clear on this, Cha Cha! Too much alcohol ought to lead to a deep slumber, but it mostly just keeps me awake. And my husband mask. (sad)