Nobody else makes a big obsessive deal out of being gone a few days, right? I'm even worried about how many readers I'll lose (as if that matters). Sometimes I think the only thing I have going for me, journal-wise, is that I never miss a day. If I ever did miss a day, no one would come back. Then I'd be writing to myself again the way I did all those years in my paper journal.
I'm leaving just at the time when I'm getting a good feeling about the wilderness that is my back yard. I've been ripping through the high grass the last three days, and I've created a clearing around the house. It's not pretty, but it's a start. Now I expect to drive up the lane two weeks from today and find the weeds so high and thick that all I can see is the pointed roof sticking up out of the amber waves.
This is delightful, isn't it? Sharing my delusional fixations with my friends (that's most of you) and a few lost strangers who've wandered in looking for things like "how to bunt," and "Jennifer Lopez at the Grammys," and "tickling" (what is it with the tickling, already?). (That should be good for a few more search engine hits... Hi, how's it going? tickling tickling tickling)
Where was I? Putting this all down in black and white (or whatever) demystifies it enough that I can laugh a little, relax a little. I spent most of today working, since I had to stay home and wait for a phone call (which never came). I'm as caught up as I can be, but I still have this week's and next week's work (payroll and such) to take care of before I can get away.
Do you think I need a vacation?