The only thing that flies by faster than the weekend, is during a great vacation.
First, I experience the glorious anticipation of the vacation getaway, followed by the actual trip, and then, somehow (always much faster than expected) it is over, and it's get back to the real world of setting the alarm on my iphone to wake me ay 5:30 in the morning, and laundry, and watching bad television. (The Bachelorette is my current bad-TV guilty pleasure.)
(Don't judge me.)
Anyway.
I always find myself caught in an odd state of turmoil as my vacation adventure comes to an end; where I am so incredibly sad for the fun to be over, while being filled with huge wave of homesickness at the very same moment, longing excitedly to return to the comfort of my little cottage. (To be clear, that is not to be confused with a burning desire to get back to daily activities like work, and errands, and chores, but rather just the familiar and cozy haven of home.)
(Do you feel that way after being on holiday?)
(Insert long, contented sigh here.)
It was a lovely, wonderful, fabulous, restful, fun trip, and I will treasure the memories for a long time to come.
Life is so good.
