neurotwitch

getting ready to go on vacation

We’re only going to be gone for three weeks. Everything is nearly set up—our house will be housesat, the papers are suspended, the mail will be on hold, my coffee delivery postponed ... as usual, I’ve been frantically trying to finish up a couple of big projects. Pre-vacation stress, ugh.

But there is no way I’ll get my two big projects finished by Friday, so I’ve just decided to accept that I’ll be doing some work while we’re in Michigan. When I decided that, it was like this weight lifted. If I get them done, fine. If not, that’s fine too. The deadlines are self-imposed, really. My world won’t grind to a halt if I actually let them go for three weeks. Only, it will bug me.

And there is a world of difference between working at my leisure, sitting on my parents’ back porch after having spent a few hours at the beach, and sitting in our office with the unrelenting phone and email and have-tos and musts.

I need a break from the campaigns, too. More than from work, I think—the primary was intense, but the general election will be even more intense because the House race in now in play. Other than updating connecticutchoicevoice.com, I’m going to TRY to take a break. Which is not as easy as one would think given a husband and a father who look forward every year to spending three weeks agreeing with eachother about what an asshole (name a republican or fake democrat here) is. How he or she is bungling the war, homeland security, the budget, emergency management, basic humanity ...

We have to hack back a jungle before we can close some windows! This window, which is in Stanley’s “studio,” looks like there is a tree next to it. It’s not a tree—it’s a wisteria monster. It went berserk with all the rain and heat and humidity, it mutated or transformed or something. I fear that we’ll awake to find ourselves lashed to our bed when the monster breaks through the screen. Stanley will have to get on the porch roof and hack it back so we can lock the window. Or we’ll come back to find the studio completely engulfed in wisteria. Come to think of it, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing given the state of the room, which is a repository for all Stanley’s guy junk.

I think our creatures will benefit the most from the vacation—once the drive is over. Though they’re really good travelers. Last trip home, Twitch didn’t vomit even once. The both just curl up and sleep most of the way. Twitch will spend every moment he can on the screened in porch, watching the hummingbirds and finches. Ginger will start twinging when she realizes the lake is right there—she’s a happy dog when she’s swimming. And chasing the wild turkeys and running running running.

Here is Twitch in my office window (click image to enlarge). He looks liquid, a Dali cat. I wish I could relax that much.

Now who’s going to win the restaurant on Hell’s Kitchen? Don’t know why I like this show so much.

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