It's just little old me at my house. Husband is off gallivanting in D.C. with his Kennedy Center and his pool parties and his twenty-four-hour bus rides... leaving me to wallow in frequent get-togethers with friends, and plentiful movie watching and naps. At first I felt somewhat lost, and buried myself under a comforter with Gemma Bovary, but an hour and a half later, when the book was done, I roused myself and things have been fine.
Next week is las vacaciones. After all this time, I'm not sure I'm ready. Yes, I'm duly stressed (the headache frequency... let's just say it's easier to list the times I haven't had a headache...), yes, I'm not too far from being ready to pack and tie up ends around the house... I'm just not sure I'm really ready. Incredibly excited? Can hardly sleep? Ready to weather the unexpected annoyances that happen when one travels, especially with family? I think it's just that I'm knee-deep in work, and unsure about leaving it. However, once I am on the beach with drink in hand, I'm sure it will be like, "Work? Zzzzzzzzzzz."
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