Josh and I leave on Saturday to go to Maine for our annual family vacation. And by family I mean HIS FAMILY. Now don't get me wrong. I love his family. But after 10 hours in the same house with anyone other than Ben and Josh and I start to hyperventilate. And Josh has the stereotypical neurotic NY mother. She worries CONSTANTLY. No, I really mean constantly. Even in her sleep. It makes me crazy. But at least she can talk about books, which is more than I can say about most of the world. Vacation is supposed to be one of those relaxing things. But, frankly, I would rather have a week off work and have someone at my house catering to my every whim. Going away takes so much damned energy. I have to wash all the clothes and pack all the bags and arrange for someone to take care of the dogs and clean the house. I'm funny about vacations. I feel like I need to leave the house in pristine condition. It's like how your mom always tells you to wear clean underwear because you never know when you will be in an accident. I feel that way about leaving my house to go on vacation. What if something happens to me and someone comes in the house house and says, "What a fucking dump"? It's one thing for it to be a dump when I'm home, but another to have it publicly acknowledged as one.
And for some reason I have determined that ALL the loose ends in my life need to be tied up before I go. So I try to do everything I have not done in the past year in one week and then TOTALLY STRESS OUT the night before leaving because, of course, none of it is done. Guess how much fun Josh has the night before we go away? One of these days he is just going to leave me behind. And considering what a joy I am to travel with, that might not be such a bad thing for all involved.