Not the healthiest approach to re-entry. So I tell myself that vacations can't go on forever, that I don't live in a quaint European village, and that, in short, I should get on with it.
On the other hand, I see no harm in letting my mind drift to the narrow lanes of Barrio Santa Cruz in Seville and the lull that comes over them before the restaurants open for dinner at 7:00 or 7:30. Or the view I would wake up to in Sintra, turrets and towers tucked in among the green.
There's a fine line between dissatisfaction and enlargement. And I'm trying to walk it right now.