The worst part about going on vacation is unpacking when you get home. It takes forever, and with me anyway, it always seems to lead to more problems. I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to dump the damp bathing suits out on the laundry room floor. Despite brushing my feet off every time I leave, I am pretty sure I have managed to track sand into every corner of my house now. I see little white gleaming particles everywhere. Guess I’m going to have to vacuum too. There is no food to eat in my house, but, inexplicably, there is a bag of leftover snacks on my front porch. I have no idea how it got there. I know we brought everything in last night. I’m leaving it there until Joe gets home–maybe he can explain it.
The trips are always worth it though, even if I can only get away for a long weekend. And while I love to fly, I think my preference will always be driving. I’m not a morning person, but I love getting up just before daylight to load up the car with beach towels and bathing suits, toss a bag of ice in the cooler, and pile in my favorite snacks. Joe and I generally make road trip CDs, trying to outdo each other with a cool mix of fun songs to sing along with and a few guilty pleasures to make each other crazy. I usually do better with the latter–I have a huge collection of crappy country and pop that makes him want to cut off his own ears. For this trip, though, I listened to Springsteen albums on my iPod as we rolled through Tennessee and Georgia. You get a totally different perspective on the Boss when you listen to him while driving through this gorgeous countryside rather than while sprawling on the couch browsing websites.
I’ve always loved long-distance car trips, although my husband says it’s because I’m generally not the one driving and have time to enjoy it. I disagree. After I graduated from high school, my family and I took an epic road trip out west, to the Badlands, Mount Rushmore, and Yellowstone, and then down to Las Vegas and over to the Grand Canyon. I’m not going to claim that I drove a ton, but I have fond memories of speeding through Montanna with everyone else in the van asleep. We were in the middle of nowhere, so I couldn’t pick up a thing on the radio. I simply drove and drank in the scenery. It was awesome. You can’t get that feeling hundreds of feet overhead in a plane, where the clouds are lovely, but they block out everything else.
I just got home last night, but I’m ready for the next trip, where and whenever it may be. But I have to stop for now. This load of laundry has just finished, and I guess it’s time to start cleaning up the sand. (Sigh.)