Ah, vacation! Tomorrow I leave for ten days.
[Pat on back: I pulled together some P posts for distance posting plus some possible pinch-hitting from one of my progeny…]
Time away from everyday chores… distant shores, friends & family, lolling on the beach, hiking in the woods, wining dining playing scrabble, reading (formerly) dime novels, thinking useless thoughts.
But by the time I get on a plane I’m so whipped that I need an extra vacation to recover from my preparations.
Packing is a problem of procrastination. Not so much that I procrastinate on packing. Not exactly. I leave so many OTHER critical tasks to the last minute that suddenly it’s the 11th hour and my suitcase is still in the closet.
I paid bills, did laundry, vacuuming, watering, canceling of mail and papers, completed two writing assignments, found caregivers for the dog and the cat, etc etc. But then I noticed the grass had GROWN in my front yard, and if I didn’t mow it NOW, the unkemptness would signal Absentee Owner. So I mowed the lawn.
In so doing I discovered that the mole I’d hoped would go away, had returned with a vengeance. So I had to get out my shovel and traps and do the whack-a-mole dance to lure him while I’m gone. No kidding, this very serious guy at the garden store told me that the secret to catching moles (because a trap is insufficient) is the little mole dance. He says his grandpa taught it to his dad, and his dad taught it to him.
This was more self-revelation than he’d intended. He wouldn’t give me the demo dance, so I’ve made up my own.
It’s now 9p. I leave in the morning. Maybe I should pack.