Home Again

Home from vacation and happy to be on my own wifi again. (Hotel wifi wasn’t that bad, but I had to keep logging back in every hour. That doesn’t sound that horrible, but when you’re in the middle of a YouTube video…) I discovered several things on vacation that I didn’t have time to blog about while I was gone.

I hate when people just repeat the word you didn’t understand. Like, obviously I didn’t understand it the first time. What makes you think that saying it louder or more slowly helps anything? Just sayin’.

I am an introvert born to people who compulsively offer commentary on everything. I had no chance of becoming anything but a writer. I think I was on Tumblr when I saw, “If you call me annoying, even as a joke, I’ll probably never speak to you again because I’ll always be afraid I’m annoying you.” That’s so true about me. Because I have so much to say about everything, and I’ve never had a lot of people to share them with, so all my friends know that I randomly blurt weird stuff. (I also pay attention to weird stuff, being a writer, like the fact that the crown molding where I work is cracked apart above the door.)

Speaking of being an introvert, I am such a staycation kind of girl. My favorite day of vacation is the penultimate one because you’re still on vacation, but it’s almost time to go home. I miss when flying was an adventure. Now it’s just ho-hum annoyance. I always arrive places ready to go home. That’s an awful thought on the first day of vacation, isn’t it? When I go places by myself, I always arrive early enough to give myself an existential crisis, but the thought of arriving to a crowd gives me anxiety.

I don’t like eating out. I used to think it’s because my mom is a good cook. But it might be because I associate it with being dragged away from the beach. We stay in a hotel, so we go out to eat almost every day. I’m not a huge fan in the first place, and then it’s really stressful to drive anywhere with my grandmother, so I’m just…. Also, she likes nothing but crap Americanized food. And in the first place, I like eating alone because I get to read. And no one interrogates me about what I ordered. One of the places we went, I swear our waiter moved and talked just like Matt Bomer. And then that night I had a weird dream about Matt inviting me to his kid’s birthday party and there was a scavenger hunt and I lost my car and I don’t even know.

Even though the beach represents everything I hate about summer, I really enjoyed myself. Got to swim in crystal clear water almost every day we were there. Side note, please don’t be the tacky person who wears cutoffs so short that your pockets hang out the bottom.


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