We hit the road early for family vacations when I was a kid, and my childish self never understood why my mom was always the last person in the van. (Duh. It takes like 2 minutes of motherhood to figure that one out.) What I really couldn’t comprehend was that the reason for the delay was not last-minute packing, but a last-minute cleaning blitz. The mountains were calling, the van was loaded, the camper was hitched, and she was. . . scrubbing the sink?! Clearing the counter?!
I totally get it now. There’s something immensely satisfying about knowing that the kitchen floor will be spotless for a week, even if you’re not around to see it.