This is the second post in a new series of "Why I" posts in which I shall explain myself. Many of my readers appreciate this -- perhaps most of all my father-in-law who thinks I am charmingly crazy (Ollie, do not protest, you know it's true except maybe the 'charmingly' part).
Friends, I HATE the end of vacation. This is especially true when I am forced to tear myself and my children away from our families and return to a place without any family (but with very lovely friends). The worst part of this problem is that I let my distress at the end of vacation wreck the last 36-48 hours of said vacation so that I am not only not enjoying time off with good weather and junk food, I am also already focused on the end. Living in London makes the end a bit worse as we face an eight-hour flight scheduled to depart at 10:45pm.
COME ON, I say to myself, just buck up and enjoy the fact that you saw a pelican on the dock this morning and just heard a fish jump (or was it a gator?!?) in the canal behind you...
(This photo is actually from Wakulla Springs, not the canal behind our house. Sadly.)
Friends, I HATE the end of vacation. This is especially true when I am forced to tear myself and my children away from our families and return to a place without any family (but with very lovely friends). The worst part of this problem is that I let my distress at the end of vacation wreck the last 36-48 hours of said vacation so that I am not only not enjoying time off with good weather and junk food, I am also already focused on the end. Living in London makes the end a bit worse as we face an eight-hour flight scheduled to depart at 10:45pm.
COME ON, I say to myself, just buck up and enjoy the fact that you saw a pelican on the dock this morning and just heard a fish jump (or was it a gator?!?) in the canal behind you...
(This photo is actually from Wakulla Springs, not the canal behind our house. Sadly.)
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