What Awaits

This is what awaits at home -
(I'll try explaining in a poem).
Taxi line or Uber call.
Heat I cannot take at all.

Mail piled up and plants a'droop.
Empty fridge or fruit-turned goop.
Messages on the machine.
Headlines that I haven't seen.

Laundry basket quickly filled.
Jet lag feelings 'bout to build.
Car begrimed and yes, by cricket,
Windshield likely sports a ticket.

Just this morning, eggs and scones
But flying home to local zones,
I'll need some time to readjust
Before the mem'ries turn to dust.