I remember I suffered from this once before several years ago when we had taken a ten day vacation in Aruba. I was totally traumatized when I returned to work and not once was I offered frozen fruit on a stick; not one pina colada was delivered to my desk; and not once did a handsome pool boy come by and offer to spritz me! I tell you, it was not a pretty predicament.
I really thought it was a plague that only attacked those who worked for a living. Being retired, I never expected to suffer this infection again! But here I am: pathetically wishing for my Priority Pack with the bottled water, sun chips, granola bar, and apple from the Holiday Inn Express; pining for pretty towel animals placed on the sink by creative, caring maids, and wondering where those sausages, waffles, and cinnamon danish went?
On the bright side, I haven't once exited the elevator on the wrong floor, lost sleep because of the freight train humming past hourly, or struggled with wretched wi/fi.
Count your blessings, count your blessing--the glass is half full, girl!