Vacation.
I started out with a plan for this elaborate fantasy. It began with me and TheWife™ going into town on Friday night to see Thurston Moore. Yes, that Thurston Moore. Sonic Youth in our little corner of New Hampshire. Hard to believe.
After the show, we’d get back to the house and spend the next several hours finishing up with the laundry and packing of suitcases. The idea was to load up the car in the early morning and head up to Bar Harbor. Along the way we would stop for sodas and decide to buy a pair of lottery tickets. You can probably fill in the rest of the details — the shocking win, the money, the decision to quit work, the house purchase on the Maine coast, the affair with the real estate agent (that really wasn’t part of the fantasy, I just wanted to see if TheWife™trade is paying attention this morning), the happily ever after — with some sort of weird twist at the end.
The problem is that I couldn’t come up with a twist. I think the whole lottery thing threw me off. It’s so outside of our normal. Weirder than Thurston Moore appearing at the Historical Society. It’s not that we’re opposed to gambling, but more that it’s just not something we think about very often.
So forget the fantasy. Instead, imagine a nondescript Subaru wagon winding it’s way along routes 3 and 1. The passengers are in desperate need of some down time. We’ve got our books, music, and fresh notepads (I haven’t even removed the cellophane from my new Moleskin yet). Mornings will begin with fresh coffee, the rattle of a newspaper, and the soft scrapings of pencils across paper. After that, who knows?
Two weeks. That should be enough. It’ll be fun…and probably more interesting than that abandoned fantasy.
Oh, we are seeing Thurston Moore tonight.
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OK, so I started work early this morning hoping to be done in the early afternoon. TheHusband, as he is leaving for work, asks if I’ve read the FML. That’s always a tipoff for something to smile about.
Great fantasy, except the part about the real estate agent.
As we turn the corner to head Downeast, the cares and fetters are loosened. Then, as we cross the bridge to Mt. Desert Island, all of our senses seek a heightened clarity of what is real and true. I am so looking forward to the coffee and the solitude, re-attuning to who we are.