The Grind Sucks
Well, vacation is officially over, and I am officially home, having officially driven infinity miles in a car with El Dukay. Having just driven infinity miles in the car with Dukay, maybe I could take this opportunity to remind everyone that Dukay and I have a fundamental difference of opinion when it comes to Music, What Constitutes, as opposed to Horrible Nonsensical Sound, Definition Of. I could do this now. I could remind you of that fact. I could also remind you that spoons are sometimes involved in Dukay's version.
But, no. No! I won't stoop to such...lows. Or something. Mainly, because I complained about that already last year, and I should probably try to be at least remotely creative. As such, maybe it would be a good time to tell you about my vacation, if you are interested in that sort of thing (i.e., "Me me me me me!"), but I really, I don't have much to report on that front. The beach was awesome, and this was pretty much what I looked at every single day for the past two weeks:
Leigh's Knees. It's rhyme-y!
Only now, that is all over, and my view will be significantly different when I get to work tomorrow and behold the massive pile of undone things sitting on my desk, vying desperately for attention against the persistent, blinking light of the voicemail inbox, which is all, "Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey? Hey? Hey! Hey!" until you finally listen to the damn messages, and I am just totally not excited about any of it. Boo, work. Yay, knees on a beach.
The vacation was awesome, though, and obviously, I am very glad to have been able to take the time off, and I am very glad that I got to hang out with my family, and that I got to vacate with El Dukay, who managed to show up even though he kind of missed the highway the first time and practically ended up in a whole nother state by the time he was tracked down, but I am not supposed to mention that here, because the whole experience left him a little bit testy, people. So testy, in fact, that it was necessary to employ super-intensive calming-down measures, which meant that my mother and I had to visit not one, but two different liquor stores, to procure all of the ingredients necessary for super-intensive calming. Fortunately, we were successful, because my mother and I can sniff out liquor from a mile away, which makes us remarkably useful in very, very limited situations. Here, however, our skills were in full effect, and I am sure you were all proud.
I am sure you will also be proud to learn that, you guys, I am actually...slightly tan! Not really tan, and I am certainly not approaching the Orange Fanta wonder that is the jet-setting Hollywood crowd, but at least I no longer look like I've been chained to Bob Cratchit's basement desk for sixteen years. I am just not a very tanny person. My skin kind of stays the same general color, no matter what you do to it, so I am relatively pleased to be able to look at my legs and not see a pair of white tights, circa 198-"I-was-six" glowing back up at me. Now I have kind of graduated to "off-white." Or, "ivory tights that need washing." I am considering my vaguely dirty skin color to be a definite improvement.
But, here is another thing, as long as I have completely stepped outside of any semblance of "order:" As much as it sucks to come back and have to go back to work like a productive taxpaying voting adult, I am also very excited about seeing the many dogs, who we will pick up tomorrow. They have been staying at the vet boarding place for two weeks, which means that they (and here I mean "Bo") will be furious with us, and that I will soon be cleaning stealthily-laid poop off of everything I hold dear (and here again, I am referring to Bo) and that won't be very fun, and this reminds me to go buy some Lysol, actually, but we've really missed them. And, consequently, we, as a family, had ourselves a Summit on the State of Vacation during this trip, and have decided that from now on, we're only going places where dogs are actually allowed, because leaving them behind really blows. Not only in the sense that we miss them, which we do; nobody ELSE on this vacation has gleefully secreted himself away with my handbag, only to be discovered twenty minutes later, amid the ripped paper wrappers from the ten thousand tampons now littered crazily about the room, rolling on his back over his small white kill in unparalleled, cotton-induced ecstacy (see: Bo, two weeks ago). No! Not just because we miss those extra trips to the 24-hour CVS, but also because, know what? According to actual math, done on paper with the aid of the calculator function on my cell phone, it has actually cost more to lodge the DOGS for two weeks than it cost us to rent a whole entire condo for the same amount of time. The dog's room and board cost more than our own.
Is that...I mean, y'all, that's insane, right? Our condo had indoor plumbing and a microwave oven! I am relatively sure that the dogs, at the boarders, have enjoyed neither of these luxuries. I am equally sure that they would not really benefit from indoor plumbing, except to the extent that sometimes when it is raining Bo will sneak off to a bathroom and pee on the side of the toilet, because he is a crazy, ridiculous animal. And I will also add that this is something which I have only recently discovered, and which made me feel much, much better about life in general, because up to that point, I'd been convinced that there was a serious problem with Dukay, and I had been secretly entertaining some probing questions about his psychology/anatomy/aim. So, in that one, limited instance, the indoor peeing was actually quite a delightful discovery.
Not that this...has anything to do with my vacation. Nobody peed on the side of the toilet during the vacation. And that was...sad, I guess, and that is why we should bring the dogs next time! See there? It all comes together. The end!
So, if you could not tell from the above paragraphs, I am tired, and it is 12 a.m., and I have definitely spent too much time in the car today, so I will do us all a favor and wrap this up with the three best things about the vacation (aside from the eating and the drinking and the hanging with loved ones and lounging and the beach and the general sense of not-going-to-work that abounded during that time. Besides those things.) Those three things are:
1. Voicemail message from my sister's boss, received as she got off of her flight to the beach; contents of such were, "Hey, Ziz...um, bad news. See, we, uh...we just got some reports that there are snakes? On your plane. So, you know, that...sucks, but have a totally good vacation, though."
I will be leaving this message for all people in the future. Even people I do not know.
2. License plate, depicting fisherman in the morning mist (please take a moment now to imagine the beauty), secretly purchased by Dukay, my mother, and myself, and then custom airbrushed with the name "HOSS", which was then quietly affixed to the front of my father's new car, and which he failed to notice for QUITE SOME TIME until we were all just crushed under the weight of our own collective brilliance and could not stop giggling about the plate of great embarassment we had saddled upon him, and so we began engaging in all of these ridiculous antics in an attempt to direct his attention to the front of the car ("Dad! DAD! Is that an ant, or is that lint? Will you check?") so he'd finally see it already, only that didn't work. So ultimately, Mom hopped up on the damn hood, only Dad was all, "AHHH NEW CAR PAINT WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU PEOPLE SERIOUSLY WITH YOUR ANTS AND LINT AND HOPPING?", and so Dukay and I had to physically jump on the poor man, pin him to the ground, and say, "LOOK! YOUR CAR SAYS HOSS IN AIRBRUSH!" and he totally does not get it at all, but the rest of us think we are some kind of comic geniuses.
Hee. Listen, I will continue to find this funny until I die. Hoss!
3. The fact that I did NOT see any sharks whatsoever, but this is tempered by the fact that I did torture myself by watching Jaws on television, which always leads me to believe that there are Jaws sharks everywhere in the water, including in the swimming pool and in particularly deep showers, and I cannot be dissuaded from this belief. Everyone else thinks I am crazypants, but as proof of my complete, undeniable right-ness, I will leave you with this totally unmanipulated picture, shot of me and Ziz, some time last week.
See? Jaws sharks! Everywhere! Danger! Watch out for puddles.
So! In conclusion: I am back, and I will hopefully be slightly more coherent in the coming days. Which would be nice, because otherwise, the stacks of work, the blinking voicemails, and the stealth-pooping dogs (Bo) are going to drive me right back to crazy. And I'll probably be listening to spoons all the way.