When we left on our trip to San Francisco, we hadn’t planned on the remnants of a winter storm greeting us upon our return. We had no shovel, no boots, and no interest in snow.
But necessity sometimes becomes the mother of invention. I spied a stack of plastic garbage bags on UA100 and requisitioned 4 of them to act as overshoes while we dealt with getting the car out of the snow.
It was a good thing because it was freezing when we landed and there was no valet service.
Today I’m dealing with the inevitable post-sunny-trip depression that results from jetlag and coming off the high of no responsibility and lots of fun. I must reschedule the hair appointment I missed, restock our larder including a dreaded trip to Costco, and remember what it’s like to cook and take care of a house.
Jake was so well cared for that he doesn’t even seem to care that he’s back home. But we’re certainly glad to see him nonetheless.
I suppose you have to be rich to be on a perpetual vacation. Oh well…
(Excuse the amateur bad photos, but I thought you might like to see what was happening in the Dulles long-term parking lot last night.)