Usually I am extremely excited for a vacation. A far off trip to a tropical island is our usual venture. This year we decided that traveling to a far off tropical island would probably not work out with a toddler. So, we booked a week down the Cape (um, that's Cape Cod for all non-New Englanders) for Memorial Day weekend.
Because the hotel is 2 hours from our door, and we have the opportunity to come home at any time, this is a sneaky vacation. We've been down the Cape a lot. Natural New Englanders, we gravitate towards the Cape and its beaches and fun minigolf.
But we realized last night that our vacation starts Friday. And we've done nothing to prepare. At all.
No frenzy of buying clothes, beach ware, or vacation books. Tonight I must go through the mound of laundry, pack up stuff, and figure out if it will be worth bringing the kiddie pool with us. This vacation is going to be thrown together, but we decided that is OK with us. I'm tempted to just bring a big backpack and live out of it like Europeans visiting the Cape. If they didn't all live in great apartments and become waiters for the summer that is.
As I sit in my office going through author indexes and page proofs, I really cannot believe that tomorrow I'll be dipping my toes into the frigid Atlantic. And the heated pool.
4 years ago
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