The week leading up to vacation almost did me in. The week before the week leading up to vacation was even worse! This is the evidence I’ve long been seeking that my destiny is to either run away and join the circus, convert to catholicism and become a cloistered nun, or live in an internet enabled cave.
If joining a circus is the life for me, then it has to be Cirque du Soleil, and that’s pretty much out of the question. I’m not sure if I can touch my toes anymore, let alone twist into a pretzel and fly across an auditorium. A traditional circus wouldn’t have me because I’d be the one cheering for the rampaging elephants and trainer-eating big cats. Being a ticket taker due to lack of skills, at either circus, ruins my whole story and is unacceptable.
(Actually, say no to all animals in entertainment, if you would, not just the circus. Thanks.)
Cloistered nunnery or cave. I’m already down to a mere two choices. It might be bread and water at the Abbey, but at least I won’t have to hunt for the bread myself. Maybe a hot monk will serve me my bread and water,
or maybe I’ll be hallucinating from all the peace and quiet and the hot monk would actually be Sister Mary (insert name that conjures large, unclean, scary looking man). Does it matter? Sister Mary Man’s Name will take me under her silent wing and show me how to take my introversion to a new level.
In the meanwhile, I’m on vacation. It’s Day 4, depending on how you count. I was going to post about the week leading up to vacation, but that’s old news.
What that really means is I have no idea what we did, and I no longer care, either.
Next Up: Vacation Blogging