Vacation, all I ever wanted...

I just got back from one of the best vacations of my life. And I wish I'd never gone.

The handy little grief articles and books tell you over and over that grief is normal and has stages and blah blah blah, but seriously, no one ever mentioned that having yourself teleported out of your normal grieving existence into a place where the scenery is gorgeous, the company is wonderful, there is absolutely no stress -- even the weather is great, which considering I was in Washington State in November is nothing short of a miracle -- could be hazardous to your mental and emotional health.

And god, yes, I had a good time. But the crash? It's fucking killing me.