Home is where the laundry is

  

        We’re safely home from our vacation, although it is a bit hard to differentiate our vacation life from our retired life.
For a week we woke up when we wanted to, ate what we wanted, and did what we wanted when we wanted. The only real difference was the change of scene.

          The ride back was uneventful. The majority of house rentals are Saturday to Saturday, with the inevitable traffic results.   We took a different route this year, cleverly planned to avoid everyone else leaving the Cape at the exact same time we did. So instead of taking our usual route and getting gummed up in the Saturday standstill on one highway, we instead found ourselves in a different morass of unmoving traffic on our alternate choice. But eventually it cleared and we zipped home, making the simple 3 ¼ hour trip in our usual 4 ½ hours.

          Miraculously, when we opened our car doors after landing at home, our belongings did not explode onto the driveway like a practical joke can of “peanuts”. I swear I only bought one sweatshirt, a headband, and two swim cover-ups, but still our returning possessions threatened to block our ability to see out of the car windows.

          Since lunch on the road was a last gasp of holiday self-indulgence (me: lobster eggs benedict, he: a BQ burger with bacon, cheese, and onions), I couldn’t work up interest in whipping up a real meal of recognizable protein and two veggies.  And I wasn’t redeemed by my dinner, which was the rest of a slab of brie followed by a handful of mint M &M’s  (we all need our greens), but I did manage to find a perfectly acceptable frozen dinner for himself.

          After this past week, our intake should be limited to lettuce and all the tomatoes and the smattering of beans that ripened in the garden while we were away.