Monday, July 22, 2013


I am on vacation this week.

Frank Sinatra, Jr. provides the soundtrack
to all my vacations.
OK, I'm not going to the beach. And I have to work two days this week. And the vacation doesn't actually start until later this afternoon.

But believe me, I'm on vacation this week.

And I'm this happy about it.
Precocious Daughter is staying with her dad's family in New York right now (and has already suffered her first travel-related crisis, in that she forgot to pack her straightening iron and will have to face the Big Apple with poofy hair). I need to not be in the house with her dad while she's gone. So I'm staying with a friend in an undisclosed location.

Because I don't think my estranged spouse will get a wild hair and start calling everyone I know demanding to know where I am. But I didn't think he'd go through my stuff and throw it out, either. I don't want to put anybody in the position of having to lie when asked if they know what I'm doing this week. Hence the undisclosed location.

Things do have a tendency to blow up.
It's a bit nutso, yes. But right now it's the best I can do. And I'm going to enjoy the hell out of the next five days. Because I'm going to be safe and comfortable and with a friend. And even the two days I have to work will feel like vacation, because honestly, it's not my job I need a vacation from.

Oh, and I'll be fully wired-in, so I can write vacation blogs!

Again, without the beach.
You lucky people.

Anyway, I have to pack and stuff. You'll be hearing from me. I'll bring you a T-shirt.


  1. Look, if for some reason, life ever brings you to Nashville, TN, give me a shout and I'll put you up.

  2. I hope the vacation is going well, m'lady. I know the feeling to which you allude.


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