We haven’t had a vacation since … um… well… 2010. I know! First there were military leave issues and then we hoarded monies to buy our house.
But we’ve been in our house about two years now, and we’d really like to leave it, hm?
So we’ll be off soon, gallivanting around the gulf.
If you need me, I’ll be the one who blends in with the white sands. You’ll just see my big-ass hat and sunglasses, like the phantom of a woman.
The sun is not my friend. The heat is not my friend.
While it would feel good to head south in the middle of February, to warm my bones and remember what the sea smells like, we can never get the schedules to line up until summer.
And why are we going south? Because we love people there. Specifically, half our children, our grandson, and two-thirds of my parents.
Next year, maybe we don’t love them. Maybe next year we spend July in a nice Ice Hotel in Sweden, hm?
Anyway, I have a lot to do, so I can’t do too much WP, or we’d never make it out of the house. For some time now, I’ve been using the Schedule feature. It’s okay, but it’s not perfect.
— I gotta shop. I think my shopping list looks like provisions for a person who will spend the next six months stranded in the desert, come home, bake a frozen lasagna and collapse. Oh hey…
— I gotta make a list for the house-sitter. The house-sitter cuts my work in half.
— I gotta do the laundry special, so I have a pile to pack and a pile to put away.
— I gotta pack. Packing for four is a fucking delight. Do you know why? Because I usta hafta pack for six.
— Don’t forget! chargers for everything, first aid kit, snacks, presents…
— I gotta make playlists and sync everyone’s everything.
People have actually created lists to help you in these matters. I don’t trust any of them. This list looks like it was made for a single high-maintenance woman.
Doesn’t seem like too much on paper, but if you’re the one who does all the planning, well, then you know.
You know what The Mister does to prepare for vacation? He checks to make sure he has his wallet about thirty-two times or so.
Do you have any tips? Have you ever forgotten something crucial? Do your loved ones insist on living in America’s penis?