My vacation was the most hedonistic experience of my life. It always is. I initially look forward to my impending vacations with ambition and industrious zeal! It’s rare that I actually go anywhere; my reclusive nature compels me to spend as long as I can in total solitude. Anyway, I make list after list of all the things I’m going to accomplish! This time was no exception. My list included cleaning my house from top to bottom–no trace of dust would be spared! I was going to take the dog for long walks at the park, organize my garage, do some Christmas shopping and cook lots of wonderful meals for my family. This was established on Friday, the first day of my vacation. By Tuesday afternoon, I had completed precisely two things on my list, felt defeated, and gave up. The dog had food and I had done a load of laundry. And as I handed my sweet family the warm, fluffy towels fresh from the dryer, knowing I would only find them wet and rotting on the floor the next day, I realized something. I was on vacation, for crying out loud!
Wednesday morning found me in my pajamas til noon, hair unwashed and at my kitchen table–laptop open, table littered with coffee mugs, magazines, my unbalanced checkbook, a box of cereal and me updating my Facebook status every three minutes. It’s now Monday, my last day of vacation, and I have logged over 150 Facebook hours, updated my status 257 times, got into a twenty minute international argument over the correct spelling of the word “cozy,” and befriended someone I don’t even know on a dare from another friend. Our friendship may be shortlived! It’s sad, really, as I now know way too much about my friends’ financial status, religious convictions, favorite sports teams, and the names, ages, and intellectual progress of all their children. Go on, ask me what any of them were for Halloween. I can tell you. I can also tell you if they won a contest for it.
I also should mention I upgraded my phone. I know, I know…I have preached the evils of iAnything, but this phone is magic, I tell you, magic. I shall henceforth refer to it as “precious.” I feel as if I’ve discovered fire! I have called my husband five times today alone–using FaceTime. We can look at each other while we talk!! He wasn’t as amused as I was, and by the fifth giggly call, all I could see was his deadpan expression as he looked at me through the Precious and sighed, “What?” There’s probably something to be said for voice only calls.
And don’t get me started on the Pandora App for my new handy dandy Precious! I never ever say, OMG…but OMG, ya’ll! I typed in “Rhianna, ” and my life was changed for-evah. By typing in one artist, the iPod gods formulate a commercial free radio station of entertainers associated with that genre…and it will play til Kingdom comes. Five hours later, my PJ clad self was singing along to Justin Timberlake’s Cry me a River–falsetto voice and all–as I made a triple word score scrabble move against my friend Justin on the iPad–Words With Friends app. for the iPad…check it out. I caved on the game invite rather quickly. “No, Justin, I really don’t play computer games…not my thing, no really…oh…okay…”
My husband came home at 4:30 on Thursday, with our one and only off spring in tow–I couldn’t pick her up because, well, I “needed the day” to write. And by write I mean lose all track of time in a YouTube loop( did you know that if you type in “Rob Thomas ‘Ever the Same’ video” at 10:30 in the morning you can be looking at red neck chef IronHead 41 cook cornbread dumplins and cabbage by three thirty, having never typed anything else in the search box?). Writing also included cursing like a sailor(because I could, as there was NO ONE to offend), chatting with my mom, eating like a deathrow inmate, and putting music on the precious.
At first I felt guilty for not being more industrious, but that ended along about Tuesday. Each day, my husband would come home, survey the dining room table in its various stages of disarray and quip, “Did you do anything today?” Oh, if only he’d seen me an hour before he got home. I would reek of day old coffee and popcorn. That was generally when I’d shower, make myself somewhat presentable, and unload the dishwasher or fold a load of towels…or re wash a load I had washed three days prior and forgot about, all in an attempt to not appear slovenly. I don’t think he bought it. By mid week I had lost all adherence to finer sensibilities such as showering or tidiness, and he and I both knew it.
And writing also included, gasp, watching bad television. I know, I know…I haven’t watched TV since last summer…but as I horked down a sleeve of Ritz crackers and chased it with a diet coke, I thought what the hell…it’s research. I was enthralled by those Judge shows, whereby a mordant judge adjudicates disputes of paternity, emotional distress, child support, ferocious dogs, or unpaid cellphone bills. They were not only riveting, but truly educational. Hours of Judge Judy, Judge Joe Brown, Judge Alex, Judge Pirro taught me this–now listen closely–If you are a shift leader at KFC, don’t loan money to, buy a car for, or give a cell phone to someone who doesn’t have a job, has never had a job, or has no plans to procure a job. And whatever you do–DON’T have a baby with him! I watched with the dimented zeal of Madam Defarge–minus the knitting.
My vacation ends at 3:30 a.m. tomorrow morning and I feel no compunction whatsoever about being a complete sloth for roughly 264 hours. So, I’ll wake up rested, fatter, having accomplished nothing, but with a zen like peace surrounding me…I believe it was time well spent.