My mother kept telling me this story, over and over again before we flew to Costa Rica, about how when she got back from a European honeymoon with my father, no one had watered the flowers in their apartment and they'd all died and that's when she realized she was back. Back to real life. I wondered what kind of depressing crap she wasn't trying to feed me, but then the other night, while making Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, I got it. I had boiled the water and the noodles had cooked. I started the stir in the correct portion of butter and suddenly I had to find J, I had to bring him into the living room to sit on the couch and I started crying. Surrounded by presents. With my new husband. Who loves me. And dogs. Wagging their tails. After the greatest wedding I could ask for.


What a loser.

At least that's what I thought. It took me a few to realize I wasn't sad, per se. You just have to crash a little after an event such as holy matrimony.

After the wedding, which was (I know, typical, but I mean it) the happiest day of my life, J and I escaped to a tropical land of monkeys and other honeymooning couples and there's no way to get over the euphoria of just having gotten married when you are surrounded by titi monkeys while you eat pancakes and drink Costa Rican coffee with hot milk while staring out at the Pacific every day.

That hits when you're back at home with the piles of boxes and the promise of work the next day. Macaroni and cheese. Dead flowers. The event planned over months and months is over. J told me it was ok to feel down and it really was. Then I was fine. It's good to be home. We watched some tv and opened presents. They didn't have television in our hotel in Costa Rica, which meant it was amazingly quiet and peaceful. We loved it. But it was pretty nice to watch some Simpsons reruns and honestly, who doesn't love Kraft Macaroni and Cheese?