Thursday, February 19, 2015

PVB - Post Vacation Blues

     Mr. Wonderful awoke this morning with a very long face. No newspaper (he forgot to have them restart delivery today), snow on the ground, temps south of freeze-yo-ass and no wife in his bed. 

     That’s because The Queen was up half the night coughing. She retreated from the dough tunnel (she hates that damned bed) and headed for the guest room. The Queen is very considerate. This means she doesn’t want to wake up Mr. W. for fear he will smack her in the nose for disturbing his slumber. He wouldn’t really do that, but the message would be loud and clear even in the darkness of night.

     As a result, both Queen and Mr. W. slept through the night and were relatively rested as they faced the first day after vacation. After almost a month in Florida despite temps that were far from brag-worthy, the daily sunshine and low 70s were enough to keep them both Vitamin-D-hydrated. 

     It’s always interesting to reflect before and after a long vacation as to how life is going--what you think you miss, what you really miss, and what makes absolutely no effen difference.

     The Queen would like to tell you that sunshine cures all, but she learned many years ago that you take with you whatever you are, feel, think. The only difference is the zip code. 

     So what did her Highness think she would miss? Nothing really, and she didn’t. She hates the royal bed so was thrilled to try out at least a dozen different mattresses. Slept like a baby every night, that Queenie. Her only edible requirements were bananas and peanut butter, and they were in ample supply at the hotels and at friends’ homes. (She found a couple in her golden stilettos when she unpacked). 

     Sometimes people don’t realize what they miss until they get back. When her Highness walked into the palace after a long 13-hour drive home, she all but screamed for joy. Her  throne was a bit dusty, but Mr. W. quickly saw to it. The dough tunnel was waiting for her, but you already know how she handled that. The sun was streaming through the plantation shutters onto the beautiful new furniture, and everything was pristine. When one tries to sell one’s palace, that’s a given. None of the homes the royal couple looked to buy could compare to their eight-year-old jewel. The only issue is that the climate has changed radically since the couple moved in, and the state has grown an extra two months of winter. It bothers the Queen, but it drives Mr. W. nuts. He’s like a caged lion when he can’t be outside. She is a lioness who enjoys her cage. Go figure.

     Anyway, Mr. W. is out the door to a meeting in the 24-degree sunshine, and the Queen remains at the palace near her throne happy as a little clam doing her workout, practicing her piano and counting her blessings. Later, she will lie down next to the throne in the afternoon sunbeam and take a nap. Life is good.