Although I'm not directly in front of a window at the moment, I know that it's raining. It might not be raining steadily or violently, but it's definitely raining. And sadly, it's going to ran not all day, but through next week. Although last weekend in it's sunny, balmly glory was a nice reprieve from winter chill, not every free day can be a winner.
So this weekend, I will be driving through the rain for forty-five minutes to see my insurance agent, back home, thirty minutes to Ikea with my dad to pick up furniture, and back home. I will be hauling numerous cumbersome boxes into my front door, damp and tripping over dogs. I will watch the yard fill up with water as I do my laundry and pack what's left my room into wet, soggy boxes. I will sit and watch it rain as I notify every annoying little company, organization, and government branch that my address will be changing. I will do my taxes, as it rains. And finally, I will trudge into the unknown basement of my new apartment building, through the mud and the muck, led by a seventy-five year-old man to locate the circuit breakers in my building.
This is not going to be a fun and exciting weekend.
Because it's just starting to get a little warmer, so the cold isn't bitter, but is utterly tolerable with a moderately-heavy light jacket, and the smell of awakening plants and soil fills the air, that I find I really, really want to go on vacation. I'm itching for the possibility of summer, when for some unknown reason, it seems easier to leave life behind and venture somewhere different and a little more exciting. I want to make new memories with people I love. I want to see places I haven't seen before. Which is ironic, because I'm not seeing grass and plants in my own hometown that I haven't seen in months.
Although my financial situation is about to get a lot tighter and more strict, I can't help but think about where I'd like to go on vacation this year. In past years, my boyfriend and I have gone and stayed at a characteristic pink-and-green motel in Wildwood, where the pool is hand-dug and painted blue, the beds are rock hard, and the owner is extremely sweet. Last year, it rained for days before we got there, and through the first day of our visit, flooding the streets like I have never seen roadways flood before. We left a boardwalk movie theater to pouring down rain, and ran along the boardwalk and through the streets, flooded two-inches high in some places. We arrived at our favorite Mexican restaurant with its trendy decor and lounge-like feel absolutely soaking wet and probably not appropriately attired. We didn't care. I bitched a lot then, but now I look back on it fondly. I want to make more memories like that.
I considered, perhaps sometime in April, going to visit my friend in California. We could go to wine tastings and ride bikes up near Napa Valley. But unfortunately, I'm not sure a plane ticket is really in the cards at the moment. But regardless, I want to go somewhere, even if it's not far at all. I'm sure at least once I'll go visit my cousin in her newly-acquired studio condo along the boardwalk, and I'm sure she'll come visit me in my not-so-studio, not-so-condo, and definitely not-so-along the boardwalk apartment.
Maybe, since I'm finally getting my affairs in order, it's not a bad time to start thinking about saving for a little vacation. Where should I go?
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