I may have PVD.
You know, Post Vacation Depression. Symptoms of PVD include frustration at carrying out menial tasks such as emptying the dishwasher or doing laundry. (Or, as you know if you follow me on Twitter, I've been avoiding laundry due to a giant spider.) Other symptoms to watch out for are using unusual lingo (I have to bite my tongue to keep from calling everyone "mon"), listening to music outside of the norm for the individual (I have sudden urges to blast reggae) and trying to get others to notice your tan.
PVD, not surprisingly, strikes after arriving home after a fabulous vacation, such as the one we were blessed to take last week. I haven't done enough research to know the duration of PVD symptoms. I can only hope (for my sake, as well as Hubba Hubba's and Wiggle Man's) that they subside soon.
And I mean, really. What's so wrong with the assumption that when you return to your room it will have been thoroughly cleaned, beds made, and one of these waiting to greet you?
I may have to start folding the ends of my toilet paper into those neat little points.
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