Does anyone else find vacations exhausting, or is it just me?
We just returned from spending seven days in San Francisco, our favoritest of cities. On the plus side, we got to see some dear friends, do some hiking out on Pt. Reyes (where a family of deer bounded by right in front of us), see the sights, enjoy sleeping with the windows open, walk on the beach, feel good about our mortgage and eat, eat, eat and eat some more. We were all set to move there until we found not one restaurant that understood the true meaning of chips and salsa – and that was a deal breaker.
On the negative side, on the flight out I was convinced that two suspiciously nervous guys were terrorists. I spent the entire three-hour flight eating Tums like popcorn and clutching my smuggled nail file in my coat pocket and praying. I was ready for a Sally Hansen-style duel where I ended up landing the plane or they ended up with a bad manicure. Either way.
The other bummer was that the second day we were there, someone hi-jacked our credit card number and went on an $800 spending spree at Wal-Mart. As if someone could outspend me at Wal-Mart! The hoist was discovered when we tried to pay our dinner bill and the card was rejected. The waiter was nonplussed at our display of astonishment. When we indignantly informed him that this had NEVER happened to us before, his expression told us he’d heard that one before. Although it was true, it sounded false even to me, so I didn’t blame him.
Joining the credit card crud in the negative column, I lost my new sunglasses in Golden Gate park, our washing machine broke as soon as we got home with three suitcases of dirty laundry and now my computer is PMSing. And I am tired.
A little boy who was thrilled with every new thing — a bar of hotel soap, jumping on the hotel bed, a seashell, the “go-go-gay” bridge, a pinecone. I am tired. And it was totally worth it.
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