Staycation Fail

It was all my idea.

When my husband found out he had a couple extra days free before his new job began, he wanted to do something ‘different’. (My husband is very big on ‘different’) Flights to Chicago, or Baltimore, or Atlanta, he said, were at an all-time low rate. I was thinking…two days? The flights alone will take at least half a day. That leaves ONE day to explore a city. So, being the practical and supportive wife that I am (well, sometimes), a STAYcation popped into my head, and why not? We live on Hilton Head Island, for gosh sakes, and NEVER explore the plentiful amenities.

Hyped, and immediately on board, he made reservations at The Sonesta Resort, for which – as a huge bonus – he had points! We got the two nights free! We fluttered around in preparation, packed, dug out our swimsuits, put our bikes on the rack, and headed out.

Upon arrival, we were heady with the tourist spirit. Jim wanted to pretend we were from somewhere exotic. (As I said, he is big on ‘different’) I refused, of course, but he told perfect strangers that he wanted to do it and that seemed to satisfy him. I just rolled my eyes. We oohed and aahhed over the soaring, beautifully decorated lobby, walked the property, and visited the beach. Ate dinner at the resort restaurant. In short, we did what every tourist on the planet that walked through the Sonesta’s doors did. That night, I tossed and turned and could NOT get to sleep.

The perpetrator

The next morning, we enjoyed a sunrise beach walk, then ran home to feed the cats, and ended up eating breakfast and hanging out at our house. A good thing, because one of the cats had gotten stuck in the spare bedroom and, bless his heart, had nowhere to relieve himself other than the bed or the floor. Fortunately, he chose the bed, and I simply threw the whole lot of bedclothes into the washer and threw away two pillows. Easy. Cat poop and pee on the rug is an entirely different matter, and worthy of new carpeting. Yay for Felix who had the discernment to know the lesser of two kitty-evils. With a big sigh of…oh, I don’t know…resignation? we drove back to the resort (all in the name of ‘different’) and resumed touristing in our own playground. We went to the beach. We watched the tourists. We had lunch in the poolside bar. We tromped out to the parking lot, unloaded our bikes and rode around Shipyard on their lovely bike paths. We went back to the hotel. Up to the room. Lay on the bed and studied our phones for an hour. After a while we both realized that we were…what? Yep. Bored.

I missed my cats. I missed my deck. I missed my view. I missed eating food that wouldn’t make me gain weight. (Why don’t restaurants have keto-friendly menus now, anyway?) So when Jim asked where I wanted to go for dinner, I said…wait for it…

Home.

He laughed. “Really? You do?”

“I do. What about you?”

Silence. (He has to ponder things)

“I guess I am kind of bored.”

“Me too. And I miss my cats.”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

Sigh. “What do I tell them when they ask why we’re leaving early?”

“Why do you think you have to give a reason?”

Sigh.

“We can stay if you want,” I said.

“That’s okay. I want you to be able to sleep.” (Jim can be really sweet sometimes)

“Aw.”

So we went home. Both of us felt relieved.

Moral of story: Staycations don’t really work unless the location is far enough away from home base that it is inconvenient to return, or home base doesn’t have the greatest location or view.

We now know that in our case, since we can rule out BOTH of those things…staycations just don’t work.

At all.

The end.

Taken on our Sonesta Beach sunrise walk