Toto, We're Not On Vacation Anymore

So, I have been a little quiet. Why? The cold hard reality of... well reality, has hit me square on the nose. No more lazy days of summer at the beach. Everything I ran away from in life has remarkably stayed exactly the way I left it, waiting for me to return. And I have been busy!

The first mistake I made was firing Sharon. I KNOW! I KNOW! What was I thinking that I could live without my imaginary personal assistant?

But that cleansing ocean air and sweet feeling of peace and contentment left me a little foggy and stupid. I was all happy at my condo taking pictures and catching ghost crabs with my boys and thought, "Do I really need an imaginary personal assistant? Surely I can handle all of this myself. " And POOF!, she disappeared.

I was okay the first week. Then we came home from the beach.

It took us all day to pack up the condo and bring all our stuff back home. Then I had to reintegrate all of that stuff back into my overstuffed house. Everywhere I looked there was something that needed to be done. The boys started complaining that they were bored. And I was expected to actually work at my job that pays me an American currency ( as opposed to my job as wife and mother which pays in "I owe yous" to be redeemed in the form of "the feeling of satisfaction from a job well done" while lying on my deathbed).

I called Sharon in tears. "Please come back." I begged.

"I knew you'd call, but I can't believe how fast." she said kind of snarky-like.

"I'm so sorry. Please, I really do need you."

"Of course, I'll come back."

"Thank you. Thank you, Sharon. Will you make me one of your perfect Cosmopolitans?"

"No" she said. "I will not. You got F-A-T fat at the beach. That scale is showing numbers you haven't seen in at least 4 years. Do you know how many calories are in my perfect Cosmopolitans? Those giant shorts are only fooling yourself."

"You're right, Sharon. Everything has just gone to hell without you. I am going on a diet right this second. I have already started playing tennis again twice a week - and don't forget Pilates."

"Good girl." (Sharon always follows a criticism with an encouragement.)

"Now one last thing." she added.

"Anything." I said already feeling dreamy about her return.

"You must actively try to find a REAL personal assistant, because arguing with your imaginary personal assistant is enough to cause the State to come to your house and take custody of your children."

That it is Sharon. That it is.