Only Time Will Tell

I seem to have developed a moderate obsession for industry, the staying busy doing things kind. I’ve just found myself with an hour or so with nothing pressing to be done, and instead of seeing it as an opportunity for relaxation I spun my mental gears looking for something to do. So now I’m here doing this. Apparently I lack the self discipline required to just do nothing.

Fortunately, we’re running off for four days of being not at home, and I hope to discover a previously unknown capacity for idleness. I’ve never really been very good at vacationing, have always been one who required a return to the workaday grind in order to recover from the vacation, and it’s been a long, long time since I managed even that. I might outsmart myself, though, because Miss Awesome and Snoogins The Microdog are coming along with us and will require far more attention than they do at home. I love hangin’ out with my sweetie baybays.

It’s been more than twenty years since I had a vacation that wasn’t just a day or two tacked onto a gonna be there anyway trip. I don’t count going for holidays to the grandkids’ house because, as much as I love the little fuckers and spending time with them, it’s not a vacation. Grandparents the world over understand. Especially the ones who get down on the floor and play with the little brats. A lot has transpired inside the hairy rock I carry on my neck since that last vacation, and I’m hoping that I might have inadvertently unlocked the (get my new word here!) endofuckitall system. Not that it’s a thing I haven’t been kinda working on here and there over the years, but I haven’t really heard a click and said a-ha!

Well, yeah, I’ve heard a click and said a-ha, but it was just me turning on the light to catch the cat playing with the toilet paper again. I’m much more careful now to check that the door is tightly closed.

I’m looking forward to finding out.



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