The worst thing about coming home from a vacation is not the stuff we brought home with us--dirty laundry, empty wallets, and a messy car, plus mosquito bites, sunburn, and an annoying burn--but what we left behind: the grandkids' smiles, cheese-and-crackers picnics, long hikes and waterfalls and Fallingwater's stunning wonders.
But mostly time, unfettered and unscheduled time free of meetings, reading, and a garden wanting weeding. We filled our time with plenty of hiking, canoeing, and rock-hopping, but we also did some serious loafing and staring into space. We sat beside the river just so we could listen to water splashing over rocks. We sat on the outdoor deck of a riverside restaurant and watched butterflies and bees move from blossom to blossom. We sat on the porch of our Bed & Breakfast and chatted with a couple of strangers who turned out to be friends with my husband's cousin.
Now we're home and that's all over--and worst of all, there's no longer any good excuse to avoid the big pile of work demanding attention. Why isn't the solar electric fence keeping the raccoons out of the corn patch? What will we do with all these overgrown cucumbers? How will I ever finish the syllabus for my first-year seminar when the common elements keep being revised? When will I write my conference paper? Who will fill the birdfeeders?
The questions keep piling up, drowning out the joy and relaxation of our Pennsylvania vacation. After all the waterfalls, we now face a flood of annoying tasks, with no relief in sight. Won't anyone toss me a lifeline? We're drowning over here.
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