All I Ever Wanted
There’s no concentration at work, today. Not that I’m writing this at work.

I’m going on vacation this week. A much-deserved, so-very looked-forward-to, vacation. Because not only have I not left town at All since freaking Christmas - but also now, it seems like everyone I know is taking life-changing pilgrimages to the canyons of Arizona and the dairy-cows of Wisconsin and just generally getting a lot more physical and mental exercise than I am.

I’m beginning to feel like I have cobwebs stringing me to my little everyday habitry. I think when I break free on Thursday morning (Very early, so we can watch the sun rise over the North Georgia Mountains; hell yeah.), those cobwebs’ll snap free with a "Pwing!" My knees and elbows will creak a little at first as I hike through the woods of New Hampshire, but I’ll explain to my companions that I’ve been living rusty-ol’-tin-woodsman style for the last six months, and then they’ll understand and pass me the oil can.

I started planning this trip back in February, when personal thangs were not at their sunniest and all I could daydream about was escape. I called my aunt and uncle in New Hampshire to confirm my flight dates, and my aunt said, "My, you sure are getting a head-start!" Yes. Because this vacation is mine. Since I started planning it, Hunter has decided to come along which is great, but I feel a proprietary-ness about this trip, like Clark Griswold: It will be good.

Except that for me, even if things don’t go according to schedule, it will still be good, because the point is not what I’m doing, it’s how I’m feeling. Vacation = that little block of time that is strictly selfish and lazy and forgetful. And the only time that is all mine.