I have a theory. A theory that this world is divided into two groups. One that loves travelling and the other that hates to travel. Actually, the one that hates travel might not be classified as a group at all because it consists of just me. This is not, of course, to say that I don’t travel at all. But really, what is so great about holidays? I think they’re over rated and here’s why.
My girlfriends tell me that shopping is one compelling reason to travel. But what about the inflated credit card bills? The disapproving looks from hubby and the envious ones from daughter? Not to mention the post purchase dissonance.
Some sightsee maniacally, as if their lives depended on it. But its not so easy to sightsee when the hubby and kids get grumpy.
And when the husband cooperates, you still have to deal with the idealogical differences.
Oh, these map obsessed men!
It’s no surprise then, that most holidays end up being stressful.
Still, a holiday is a holiday you think, and come back home reasonably happy but there’s more trouble awaiting you.
I rest my case.
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