I guess I’ve actually been on vacation since yesterday, but today’s been a busy one. Several hours at work allowed me to get that to a resting place, and then I had to pay bills and run around and get stuff like Bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian shirt - hey, now, I’m fixin’ to be a middle-aged gringo tourist - gotta look the part, right?
But, now…, now that’s all done. And I’ve entered the land of no real world worries for the next eight days. Sure, I’ve still gotta pack my bag, but it’s only 8:30 and there’s naught but a four-pack of Guinness standing between me and that little triumph.
Come dawn, I begin the trek to somewhere near Cancun. There’s likely no way I’d be doing this on my own, but one of my best friends decided that he wanted to gather all of the people that have been important to his life together for a week surrounding his birthday. Airfare and hotels are on him, and it’s a party of eleven.
Oddly enough, although we’ve known each other for almost 20 years, and we are quite good friends, I don’t know a single other person who’ll be on the expedition. This kind of entices me.
But the real point is that I have, in just the last hour, after making furious efforts all day to get things done, just hit that, rare for me, la-la-land gear setting. The fire’s been pissed on and the dogs have been called.
No more corporado for at least a week.
Wells can go horribly out of control, and I’m not going to respond - heck, I’m not even going to know about it.
I’ve taken my hands off the yoke, and can do nothing about Real Life for a good bit of time.
It’s all margaritas and beaches from here. Maybe I’ll meet a new girlfriend. Even better, maybe I’ll meet a new girlfriend-for-a-week. Maybe I’ll get sunburned.
So, any of y’all fixin’ to go La-la?
Any of y’all really need to go La-la but can’t (I went almost 10 years without a vacation)?
La-la-la-la-la…