I hate holiday travel. I have decided that none of it does me any good. Between the aches induced by multiple hours of driving and the activities waiting at the destination, I have yet to have a holiday travel experience that makes me look forward to the next one.
And still, the expectations of the visited weigh heavily. They expect you to be cordial and friendly and in general holiday spirits when you arrive. Nevermind that you are who you are every day.
When you wake up and you’re not in your routine, that takes a small toll. Having to ask for permission to do everything takes a small toll. Being accountable for everywhere you go and coordinating with anyone who might want to go along takes its toll. Even the food preferences of the people you visit affect you, however slightly. (No, not everyone likes pepperoni, so when you buy 3 pizzas, consider having at least a single plain one, thanks.)
And I enjoy so thoroughly sleeping on the floor when I was anticipating a bed. It’s not entirely a comfort issue, but one of expectations; one of courtesy and forethought for your guests.
There’s snow on the ground here in Johnstown, and the roads arw slippery. The van isn’t the best handler on snow and ice. While I hope we don’t waste our day waiting for time in the bathroom, I also hope we have safe travels around town to any destination that gets us out of the house.
