My summer vacation starts in two hours. Well, not really. First I have to pack, then finalize my grocery list, then hit Home Depot, Costco, Ikea, the LCBO, the beer store, the grocery store and the farmer's market. I have to load the car, walk the dog, load the dog, drive 3 hours, unload the car into a boat, drive the boat, then unload the boat and carry everything up the path and unpack. I am hoping there will be a couple of strapping teenagers around to help, but I wouldn't put book on it. When that's all done, I will pour myself a glass of wine, plop myself down on the deck, and heave a big sigh of relief until I hear the words "Hey Mom! What's for dinner?"
John won't arrive until tomorrow. Like the President and the Vice-President, we never travel together. In fact, he will only take a week, while I will be at the lake for two. This can be problematic, especially from a practical standpoint. You see, I can't be bothered to learn the manly skills necessary to maintain a cottage. I do not understand the pump. I am confused by the electrical panel. I don't know how much oil to put in the gas tank in the boat, and have been known to flood the engine. I get spooked by noises in the woods, and can't lay a proper fire to save my life. My idea of roughing it involves doing without an ice-maker. Thank God we have cell service (a relatively new development in our neck of the woods). As a result, John can expect to get a number of calls like this:
"Hi honey. There's a sound coming from the bathroom cupboard."
"Hi honey. How much does a propeller cost?"
"Hi honey. You know that floatie thing we put on the car key ring? It doesn't float."
"Hi honey. What does a wolverine look like?"
"Hi honey. The mouse is back. And it got married."
"Hi honey. Where do we keep the fire extinguisher?"
I am taking my laptop, and guess what? We now have internet service up there. Which means I may be in touch. Because I'll have all that time on my hands.