As I was cleaning the small wisps of dust bunnies collected in the corner under my desk this morning, I began to think, I’m not normal. After all, most people vacation at the beach or the mountains. Even if they only lay on their sofa eating Cheetos while watching Lifetime movies—they relax. Unwind. Decompress. Yet, here I was after months of unceasing hard work; scrubbing the corners of my house only I see. This alone may not be so unusual, but let me tell you how it all began.
The week of Thanksgiving arrived and I’ve never been so thankful. My manuscript was sent off. My Golden Heart entry was in the mail and finally I could enjoy the vacation I had been dreaming of—for months. I had plans. I was going to read books, take naps and enjoy spending the holiday with my little monkey and Mr. Alpha Male…
That was when I got the call that my mom had gone back into the hospital—again. Now, let me pause and explain for those of you who don’t know me very well. I have an unhealthy obsession involving adhering to traditions at the holidays. And hospital or no hospital we were going to have a giant Thanksgiving dinner. If you question my resolve on this issue, I will have to tell you the story of the Christmas ice storm when I cooked a huge ham dinner with no electricity and no running water using a miner’s hat for light and a barbeque grill. But for now, take my word for it.
So, by the next day I had traveled to South Carolina with my little monkey in tow, bought the last turkey at the grocery store and started cooking. I cooked all afternoon in between trips to the hospital and then I cooked all night. Soon, food started to pile high on the countertops filling the house with the spicy scent of cinnamon and nutmeg. By the next morning, my parent’s house was bursting with laughter and chatter as Mr. Alpha Male’s parents arrived for lunch. Even with my family not there, it was beginning to feel more like the holiday I love. That afternoon we packed coolers with another Thanksgiving to be served picnic style in the hospital. (Yes, you counted that right—I cooked 2 Thanksgiving dinners from scratch.) We got some funny looks from the hospital staff, but we managed to save Thanksgiving for my parents and for that I am very thankful.
When I got back home on day 3 of vacation I should have picked up a bag of the previously mentioned Cheetos and flopped on my sofa. But instead, I decided my kitchen could use a coat of paint. I grabbed some paint at the store and went to work. Then, I wrapped the last of the Christmas presents, completed the final touches of my holiday decorations, and took the Monkey to see Santa. That brings us to today, day 6 of vacation. It was just after cleaning dust bunnies, while considering the organization of my pantry when I decided to end this vacation for the vacation impaired and go back to writing. Vacation smacation. Who needs them? Not me. Am I the only one out there who’s vacation impaired?
