The Comforts of Home

20 Aug

Coming home from vacation is such a relief. Two strenuous weeks in Hawaii and about fifty mai tais left me chomping at the bit to return to a more sober, routine lifestyle.

Let’s start with the weather.

Let me tell you, it is SO nice to come home to a part of the world that’s just dying to dive into the dark abyss of caramel apples and scarecrows. There’s nothing like a good, crisp wind chill that prevents you from sleeping in your underwear, or the promise of a sweater sale at Macy’s, or the windbreaker jacket of a coworker to really say WELCOME HOME!

And how about the air quality? Fresh air with a hint of pineapple and the occasional whiff of coconut seems so muddled when you have the option to return home to the unmistakable scent of a leaking can of propane in your garage. Honestly, my sinuses have never been clearer.

Don’t even get me started on being able to snuggle up in my twin bed again! Sure, a queen size mattress with down pillows might seem appealing, but don’t be fooled – a mattress that hasn’t been flipped or changed in 20 years and a pillow with mystery stains that you hope are just “beauty marks” of drool are actually the best ingredients for an “I woke up like this” pie of flawless.

On another note, jet lag – like Oprah’s relationship with Stedman, or “global warming” – is just a myth, designed to give people an excuse to eat dry cereal and to use spray on deodorant instead of bathing.

jake cereal

(Look at him, eating dry cereal with that exhausted look on his face. Should have had eggs, Sunnyside up!)

Sure, I’m tired from traveling, but I welcome feeling like a slug that was run over by a mountain bike and then kicked into a drain after a rainstorm. It makes me stronger.

As for the food: why would I miss eating at diverse restaurants for every meal when I could come home to an empty fridge? Coming home is kind of like a juice cleanse, except instead of green juice there is a fridge with nothing but expired mustard and a stray grape lining the shelves. Minimalism, people.

And I honestly enjoy challenging myself to craft a lunch out of crusty hummus, ten cheerios and a plastic cup. It’s just like Chopped!

My skin also thanks me for returning home. After accidentally scrubbing away my tan in the shower this morning with an unusually course body wash, my skin tone is almost back to its impressively bland shade of white rice with a side of moles. Now I can finally hang out with my dermatologist again! Hip hip, hooray.

I also do not miss being active and “sporty” for a single minute. Even though I took to surfing like one takes to a toilet after a Mexican lunch buffet…

soph surf

(My instructor said my form was “borderline epileptic,” which I think is surfing lingo for “really technically astute.”)

It’s nice to not have to exhaust myself with such physically demanding endeavors. My butt missed being glued to a chair for several hours a day, and my swimming skills missed their lack of existence. I feel healthier already!

But do you want to know what I miss the least about being in Hawaii?

The landscape.


(Bleh, nature is so gross.)

Helping my grandmother beat off a swarm of horny red ants with a foot fetish.

harrie ants

Encouraging my male cousin to wear a rainbow colored, knit purse because I was hangry and felt like bothering someone.

jake purse

Watching my mom shield herself with a tiny umbrella.

mom umbrella

Feeling exasperated while standing on rocks.

rocks hawaii

Feeling at ease while drinking on the rocks.


Finding giant shirts that fit a little too well for comfort.

giant shirt

Watching my grandmother climb out of a cave.

harrie cave

Meeting celebrities and being physically unable to speak to them, for fear of ruining their shoes with my urine.

derek hough

(I’m sorry about your suede loafers, Derek Hough, but I am a HUGE fan!)

And, finally: watching Teddy Grahams get weird on a plane.

teddy grahams

Yeah. All that stuff sucked. Thank God for the comforts of home.


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