I feel like I've been run over by a semi-truck. I got in early this morning. Before I left Florida, I suggested someone drop off my car at the airport since I wasn't arriving until almost midnight. My husband insisted he would get me. He was not very friendly when he arrived.
I didn't notice right away because I was bitching about the Not-Navy-SEAL-Why-Couldn't-He-Have-Been-Sexy guy who sat next to me. By the end of the flight, I was ready to lay into that guy. Not only was he half in my lap, but he kept fidgeting every three minutes. He'd twitch his leg, and because it was up against mine, he'd hit me. Or he'd rearrange his body, and because it was practically on top of me, he'd hit me. Every time I would drift off, he'd wake me. I preferred The Kid shouting my name!
Once I got that out of my system, I realized how quiet the husband was. We didn't say anything on the way home, and when we got inside, he told me good night and promptly went to bed. Jeez, lovely welcome home. Not even the dog came out of the bedroom to greet me.
Also? There is no Christmas tree. I'm told he put up lights outside, but they were not on when we got home. Unlike PA, Floridians do not leave their Christmas lights on all night. Well, some do, but only a few.
I showered, unpacked my clothes, and went to bed. I slept well.
Coming back from vacation is always hard, but going from Nanny Cara to whatever I am here...hmm...Housewife Mommy Cara...is difficult. I always feel like in PA, I'm this different person. More a shade of who I was before I married and had children. Returning takes a while to morph into who these people know. Definitely, it will take longer than twenty-four hours!
I also bet these two expect dinner tonight.
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