It’s time for me to go on a little vacation. For the next little while I’m going to be reading, eating potato chips, walking along the shoreline and drinking coffee on the porch at the cottage. I’m not sure what I’ll do for the remaining 6 1/2 days.
I’m still going to post, but I’m bringing back an old series I ran last summer. It’s the perfect time of year for it. More on that later …
I knew it was time for a vacation when …
I put my socks in the fridge.
I told my fella the same story about how the chickens like broccoli 3 times. In the span of around 10 minutes.
I got in my car to go somewhere. Where was I going? I’m in the car heading to ….. a place. Shit.
I used the F word and accompanying hand gesture when a decrepit old man looked like he was thinking about J walking in front of my car.
I went to the store to pick up 2 things and had to turn around and come home because I couldn’t remember either one of them.
I lunged at my boyfriend when he brought home bulk salt instead of my regular brand of sea salt. With a knife.
Someone rammed their cart into me at Home Depot and I didn’t say sorry.
I read the first 23 chapters of a book before realizing I’d already read it.
Those people on Hoarders started to seem reasonable.
I told the chicken coop I hated it. Repeatedly. In front of the neighbours. While wearing my p’jamas and throwing a box of nails at it.
I cried when I dropped a tea towel.
I realized it was now or never.
So, I chose now. I’d probably never go to the cottage if it weren’t for my boyfriend. He’s the one who schedules it, takes time off work and forces me to drive the billion hours there in an effort to make me relax. He likes it when I relax. Plus he likes the cottage because he can get away with wearing the same pair of shorts and tee shirt for 5 days in a row.
I do love the cottage. I do. It’s one of the most picturesque cottage spots I’ve ever known. (My “Ask Karen”) picture was taken there. The problem is … going to the cottage is a lot of work. More work. There’s the packing the clothes and the food and the fishing gear and making sure the plants are watered and the animals are taken care of while we’re gone. Work.
In the end it’s worth it though, because once the cyclone of preparation is done … you can relax. Or at least most people can relax. We’ll see how I do. I’m not much of a relaxer. When I used to work full time at a television station, I always had to take 2 weeks vacation at once because it took me a full week to just wind down and relax. Then I had 2 days of actual, blissful relaxation before I started getting worked up again about having to go back to work in 5 days. Yeah. I have issues. This one doesn’t even make the top 20.
So! Back to the point of this post. Over the next 5 days (starting tomorrow) I’ll be reissuing my 5 part series on How to Grow a Monarch Butterfly. Yes. You too can grow an actual Monarch Butterfly. Unlike the Alfalfa Sprouts, you can’t eat them. Or at least, you shouldn’t.
Please, please wish me luck with my relaxing. I’ll check back in one day and let you know how it’s going. Until then … nobody drop a tea towel.