Drinking like you're on vacation

We had a hard return to South Carolina after being in Italy last week. We were of course thrilled to see our son, and to return to routines, but there is always a bit of melancholy that accompanies a “re-entry.” (This explains my tardiness today.)

When you’re on vacation there is a sense that you can be anyone you want to be. And when traveling without kids, I find a heightened sense of occasion. I want to dress up, look sharp, eat late, and drink copious amounts of alcohol. That’s pretty easy in Italy.

The reality of our return smacked us in the face this week. While getting our son ready for school he climbed onto our bed and his diaper leaked across the bedspread. I spent the day between the county courthouse and a packed DMV paying property taxes and transferring my tags. My wife’s car was towed. We were out of coffee, my wife’s eye wouldn’t stop twitching, and a large chunk of wooden floor in our kitchen miraculously broke off.

Sweetheart, we ain’t in Rome no more. But I had a solution.