That may not sound like an accomplishment to you, but to
those who diligently plan and still end up with the
vacation from hell…YOU know what I mean.
This year I salute the vacay Gods, as this one was damn
uneventful. I almost miss the calamities. (I said almost!) Other than the bug
that crawled off George’s dinner plate and up his arm, and the golf ball that
he chipped and the wind blew it back into his face, we got nothing. And for
once a big fat nothing was delightful. No floods, tornadoes, car stuck in mud
in the backcountry, elk running us over, stranded in airport for two days in
snowstorm, credit card numbers stolen, phones left in hotel, and not even a
fall while hiking that drew blood. Now that I think about it, we had a shitty
time.
It’s not the ease of the trip that relaxes and rejuvenates
me it’s the insanity. We’ve been home four days and every day my anxiety level
has risen. My heart races, I’m short of breath, I’m sure something awful is
about to happen…what the fuck. I’m swallowing Xanex like a kid swallows
M&Ms. I count on the crazy happenings on vacation to clear my slate so when
I arrive home I know all will settle down and be right in my world. Even AAA
called to ask if we were okay since they hadn’t heard from us in a year. (I
promised to take the truck mudding next week so they could come pull me out.)
Most people thrive on calm. I thrive on anxiety and lunacy. If
I’m not screwing something up or the world throwing shit balls at me I start to
panic. Most of my life has been one shit storm after another. I don’t let it
depress me; I simply embrace it and move on. It’s when the shit storms recede
and calm ensues that I get bat shit crazy. I have no idea what to do when all
is right in my world.
It makes me wonder what big catastrophe the world is
building up to…
Nuclear bomb? Cabelas no longer has post-season sales? Ice
Age returns to cover the earth? Giant mice from Mars take over the FBI? World
flu pandemic? Justin Bieber elected
President?
You know, it’s not easy being this fucking crazy.
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