post-vacation old-person hangover is a THING.

I heard somewhere once that you know you have a large family when you spend longer packing for vacation than you spend on the vacation itself.  This is true.

What I had not been previously informed of is that you know you must be old and raising a large family when it takes you longer to recover from going on vacation than the time you spent packing and on vacation combined.

If that really is the case, I must be ancient and my family must be massive, because HOT DANG, Y'ALL.  I still cannot get off the couch, and we've been home for six days now.  What is wrong with me?!

I seriously feel like I lost a cage match.  Yesterday, I did actually rouse myself long enough to drive up to the Amish and stop at the grocery store on the way home, but by the time I even walked in the door of the grocery store, I was famished and nearing total expiration.  It led to some... bad decisions.  For lunch yesterday, I ate sushi, a bean burrito, and clam chowder.  (I'll grant that this may be part of the reason that I feel like walking death.)

So this is me saying that I am now thirty-two years old and clearly on my way to the grave.  I take naps at 10:30 a.m.  I eye-roll at people with tattoos.  (Yes, yes. I realize they hypocrisy, but everyone else's tattoos are ugly and were clearly impulsive.)  I have it on my mental list to purchase both orthotic inserts for my Toms, and hot rollers.  I say things like, "When I was your age..." and, "These people and their gadgets..."

Why it didn't occur to me that it would take me a million years to recover from going on vacation is beyond me, but maybe that's just an indication of faulty faculties.

Whatever.  Off to take a nap.