It took about 5 minutes to hate being back on this coast.

I landed in Norfolk.  On time.  Dying to get off the damn plane.  I was semi-narcoleptic the entire flight.  The jump from Portland to Charlotte knocked me on my ass.  And I was dying for a nap.


But instead, I bitched.


I grabbed my suitcase off the carousel.  No. 5 in line.  Almost Chanel.  But not really.


The doors insta-opened as I walked out to where Mr. Wookie would swoop me up.  I hated life at that moment.  Because it was sweltering.  I went from zero to boob sweat in 4.5 seconds.  Who loves humidity??


I grabbed a hug from my personal taxi service and loaded into the car.  I was quite glad to be home.  There's just something about the home we've built on the Other Side of the Country.


Yesterday was my first day back to work.  And you know, I didn't miss it at all.


Maybe vacations to awesome places should be illegal.  Because I'm pretty sure this is how people end of quitting their jobs, buying Yurts in Alaska, and living in a Co-op.  Oh, is this just me?  Still...a good idea, I think.  As long as there's wifi.  Damn the Man, save the Empire!


So now I've indulged in some cream of wheat.  I don't have to be in until 9:30 this morning as I'm covering a coworker's hours.  Shucks.  The coffee is all mine as Mr. Wookie had to be at work at 6:00am.  Double shucks.  And I'm regretting signing up for this little 8K on Saturday morning.  Do you know how warm it's going to be this weekend at 7:30am??  Sweaty. balls.  Triple shucks.


And it's only Wednesday.  When will it be July 1??


The next family vacation is on the horizon and I, in all seriousness, can't wait for it to be then.  I've been bitten by the can't-wait-to-not-go-into-work moment.  Vacations breed little anti-work monsters.  It's easy to bounce back from taking the random Friday off.  Monday is a welcome relief.  But when you jump coasts...it's a different story.  I had 5 cups of coffee yesterday.  And I still fell asleep at 9:30 without issue.  I'm pretty sure traveling to Oregon revolves around a wormhole and Bill Nye's bowties.


I said to myself last night that I would wake up at my normal time and do laundry.  Yet I haven't.  My suitcase is still exploded on the floor.  It's not so much a biohazard as a physical safety threat.  One wrong move at night will land you in the ER with a broken toe vs. a quick trip the bathroom because you shouldn't have had that last glass of orange juice.


But maybe I'll get moving now.  I could use another cup of coffee before I start my morning.  I need to pack a lunch.  Start that laundry that keeps giving me the stink eye from the floor.  And throw myself in the shower.


2 weeks until July 1st.  I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...