Our bed and our cat make coming home appealing, though honestly there’s something wrong with my pillow and my neck hasn’t felt right in weeks. Still, most nights I sleep better in our bed than I do in hotels.
We spent a wonderful week back in Orange Beach, a place we originally visited in 2022 after several missed chances during the previous years. The weather was lovely several of the days and crazy windy one of them, so much so I couldn’t stop thinking about the scene in The Devil Wears Prada when Miranda Priestly demands to leave Miami in the midst of a hurricane. (Orange Beach was NOT a hurricane. No rain, just wind making palm trees blow sideways, though at home the trees were covered in snow, so I’ll take blowing palm trees any day.) We went with friends this time, making logistics more complicated when it came to driving places but also a different kind of fun when we sat around with cocktails and had people with us who like playing euchre.
Still, we were all ready to see the cat (maybe not Ryan as much as the rest of us), so much so that we ended up doing the drive straight through for the second time in a week. I say I hate it, and I do, but I also loved being home all day on Sunday instead of counting down hours in the car. Our laundry isn’t all the way done (almost but not quite), and my grocery shopping lacked conviction but maybe will get us through until Friday.
I miss vacation already. Laughter and the warmth of both sunshine and being around people that make us laugh — and make our kids laugh. I miss the lavender gin cocktail that banished my hatred of gin and fresh seafood and the ability to eat pizza at random hours, even though it makes my stomach hurt.
Perhaps vacations wouldn’t feel so good without the promise of home lurking on the other side, but I definitely miss this one already.
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