On Saturday night, we were invited to a neighbors' house for happy hour. Happy "hour" turned into several hour(s) and at 10 o'clock at night our kids were finally home and tucked into their beds. I should have expected as much. After all, we were with an Irishman. Yesterday, came with evidence that I cannot actually "drink champagne all night" like I originally boasted early on in the Saturday evening outing.
It turned out to be a good metaphor. For the last week, my entire family has suffered from holiday hangover. It was next to impossible to get out of bed in the morning. No one felt like doing much of anything all day, every day. It required extra effort to go outside, even if the sun was shining. We ate what was left of the Christmas cookies. We went made frequent visits to frite guy. We recovered, and it took an entire week.
Today, the kids went back to school. John left on a trip for work. We all dragged our feet this morning, but everyone was ready, sort of. We never reached that point where we made each other so crazy that we looked forward to today. It was more like it was just time to go back to our regular lives. And we did.
It was a pretty awesome vacation doing absolutely nothing.
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