One week back in the country and things are starting to feel normal again. I wish there was a pill to make that vacation feeling last longer, and while we’re at it, another pill that makes your suitcases unpack themselves would also be most welcome. But drugs or no drugs, it looks like that job is up to me this weekend, I’m a weekend widow with Oliver away in Cologne and Berlin until Monday.
It’s drizzling and cold outside so I’ve been staying in and spending some quality time with Fergus, who has been demonstrating his joy to have us back home by staying glued to my leg when I’m in the apartment. Either he’s happy to see me or trying to kill me to get revenge for being left so long, or both. His babysitter came by at least once a day to feed him and spend some time with him when we were gone, but he was lonely enough that he reportedly started playing with her terrier. I’ve been feeling guilty that he was so desperate for companionship that he was forced to cross over to another species. I don’t think it means he’s now into dogs though, I’m sure it was like a prison thing… or Vegas.
This weekend has been me, Fergus, the couch, Apple TV and whatever food I can scrape together from the kitchen. If I manage to empty those suitcases and do the laundry I’ll be extremely proud of myself.
To get over the shock of returning from vacation, I need weekends like these.