You’ve taken to carrying your passport, even when just heading out to do some yard work.
You’ve laid a towel out on the sand you bought for your kid’s toybox this summer, now sprinkled on the basement floor, to try to recreate that “beach” feel.
You’ve affixed tiny signs on the walls to recreate that museum experience, such as labeling your Lynyrd Skynyd poster, “An example of midcentury Southern Rock kitsch, circa 1998.”
You call your dog in a different language every time he has to come in: Entra! Entrez! Kom binnen!
You insist on referring to Googling directions to a nearby park as “discussing evening plans with the concierge.”
When your kid brings in the newspaper, you give him a pound coin you found as a tip.
You’re unusually invested in having to drive to a restaurant in the next town over to pick up some take-out tomorrow, calling this your “upcoming trip.”
You turn on the Spanish closed captioning on your television, even though you do not speak Spanish.
Sometimes you turn off your Wi-Fi and sit in a chair by a window, just to pretend you’re on a plane taking off.
Also, while doing that, you ask your partner to sit directly behind you and complain when you tilt your chair.
Your kids are only allowed to use the Play-Doh to make National Parks–themed shapes: Mount Rushmore in South Dakota, El Capitan in Yosemite, Old Faithful at Yellowstone.
You ask your postal carrier if she would give you a tour of the outside of your house on a window-by-window basis. She declines, even after you offer a $5 tip.
You ask your partner to bring back some “chocolate from that region” when they go out to the garage to get something.
You throw every piece of mail that comes to your home into an otherwise empty suitcase, which you have designated as “for souvenirs.”
When you repost old vacation photographs on Facebook with fresh captions, you notice that your partner has commented “Just humor her, please” on each of them.
When you’re out on one of your socially distant walks around the neighborhood, you insist on greeting each person you pass (at a distance) with a hearty “Aren’t we lucky to be in Malta at this time of year?!”
You fall asleep clutching that Illustrated Guide to the Louvre you bought on your high school trip to France, which you hadn’t previously looked at in at least 10 years.