Doing Nothing (Except That Cassandra Act)
I decided today I'd be having a real vacation. An actual vacation, wherein I did nothing. Haven't had any of that yet this summer, and now that I'm at the beach, I figure it's appropriate.
So here's what doing nothing looks like, so far today:
1) Got up, late. This is An Issue, at the beach in South Carolina, because if one is going to get one's exercise in, one wants to do it before the day gets too hot. Which, often, is at about 5:00 AM, so you gotta move fast. But since I was On Vacation, see above, I decided to get as much sleep as I "needed," whatever that is.
2) Not only was I up late, but as it turns out, I had no socks. Borrowed socks.
3) Went for long walk, despite the lateness of the morning. (Meanwhile, Sam went and bought socks for me; the only socks on the island have little frogs and teddy bears on them. I guess that'll be incentive to move fast on the morning walks, so no one can see my feet.) It was hot.
4) Came home, had tea and breakfast, sat on porch, read EXCELLENT book for a while.
5) Did a load of wash.
6) Ate lunch.
7) Had nap.
8) Had afternoon tea on the porch; read more of the EXCELLENT book.
9) Came inside; finished EXCELLENT book.
10) Caught up on blogs, whilst Julie made dinner.
11) Future plans for the day: eat dinner, read a different, and yet ALSO EXCELLENT book; sleep.
Notice that at no point in this list do I look at the ocean. I can NOT go near the ocean anymore when the child is in it (which he is all day), because now that the child has gotten to be about 10 years old, and can swim and all, he's fearless and does many things in the ocean, all of which are causing him to head to an inevitable watery death which I don't want to see. I told Sam to come tell me if the child drowns, so I can go wail and grieve by the edge of the water. But it's no use, my being at the water itself, cause I'll only act like one of those guard dogs that runs up and down by the water's edge, barking incessantly, trying to make its beloved people get the hell out of the damn ocean, which is planning everybody's demise. Which, history tells us, it's pretty damn good at.
Anyway. Nobody died today, for which we give thanks. And now we will eat our dinner.
And then maybe I'll be talked into an evening walk by on the shore, which I'll agree to, if everybody agrees NOT to go in the DAMN WATER.
So here's what doing nothing looks like, so far today:
1) Got up, late. This is An Issue, at the beach in South Carolina, because if one is going to get one's exercise in, one wants to do it before the day gets too hot. Which, often, is at about 5:00 AM, so you gotta move fast. But since I was On Vacation, see above, I decided to get as much sleep as I "needed," whatever that is.
2) Not only was I up late, but as it turns out, I had no socks. Borrowed socks.
3) Went for long walk, despite the lateness of the morning. (Meanwhile, Sam went and bought socks for me; the only socks on the island have little frogs and teddy bears on them. I guess that'll be incentive to move fast on the morning walks, so no one can see my feet.) It was hot.
4) Came home, had tea and breakfast, sat on porch, read EXCELLENT book for a while.
5) Did a load of wash.
6) Ate lunch.
7) Had nap.
8) Had afternoon tea on the porch; read more of the EXCELLENT book.
9) Came inside; finished EXCELLENT book.
10) Caught up on blogs, whilst Julie made dinner.
11) Future plans for the day: eat dinner, read a different, and yet ALSO EXCELLENT book; sleep.
Notice that at no point in this list do I look at the ocean. I can NOT go near the ocean anymore when the child is in it (which he is all day), because now that the child has gotten to be about 10 years old, and can swim and all, he's fearless and does many things in the ocean, all of which are causing him to head to an inevitable watery death which I don't want to see. I told Sam to come tell me if the child drowns, so I can go wail and grieve by the edge of the water. But it's no use, my being at the water itself, cause I'll only act like one of those guard dogs that runs up and down by the water's edge, barking incessantly, trying to make its beloved people get the hell out of the damn ocean, which is planning everybody's demise. Which, history tells us, it's pretty damn good at.
Anyway. Nobody died today, for which we give thanks. And now we will eat our dinner.
And then maybe I'll be talked into an evening walk by on the shore, which I'll agree to, if everybody agrees NOT to go in the DAMN WATER.
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