PVLS. It’s a thing. I was in Las Vegas for 6 days recently. In fact, I just got home yesterday. My brain has not fully restarted yet. I feel like there was an update that only partially downloaded. Driving around with my bickering kids in the car I realized there is a term for what I’ve been feeling. It’s PVLS. Post Vegas Life Syndrome.
The smell of stale cigarettes, over-sprayed air freshener and sweaty feet is still lingering in my nostrils…also, it could be from the laundry basket by the bed. I havent quite managed to get to all of the laundry yet.
Which brings me to my next reality. There was no laundry washing in the hotel. Clothes were put in a pile “over there” where you dealt with them only when they had to be shoved into the thin, celophane laundry bag provided. At home there is no magic drawer or suitcase producing clean pairs of undies.
There are no dinging, flashing music boxes eager to eat my money at any and every hour of the day
I have children?!?
Where is the pool?!
What do you mean you arent my Uber driver?!
Shit, it seems, has to get done not by an underpaid and over judgy staff, but by my own self.
I am mostly having to adjust from doing what I wanted when I wanted and for no reason other than I wanted to do it back to doing things for these small versions of myself and then eventually managing what I want in the wee hours of the morning after everyone else has been made happy.
So it’s like going from Dad back to the Mom
I will acclimate to these familiar surroundings once more. Hopefully the natives will accept me and begin to see the wisdom in waiting until i’ve had coffee before dismembering each other and screaming their needs at me.