Knowing there's a vacation looming is like having senioritis. Which I had all 12 years I was in college, clearly.
All I want to do is read travel books and shop for new clothes, but instead I have to work 40 hours a week like a sucker. Stupid health insurance requirements. If I could sit, lounge, recline, sprawl, relax for hours upon hours in the sun reading books I'd be golden (and tan! Get it? Word play). I'd buffer my days with eating and watching Netflix of course. Instant Netflix is the best invention since Tivo. Except mine is being wonky and all I want to do is watch season two of Veronica Mars and it WON'T LET ME. Boo.
So, work gym, gym work. Some baking, some reading, lots of television, especially because I go to the gym solely to watch TV. And get healthy, blah blah blah. If I happen to work out for 3 hours because Say Yes to the Dress and Hoarders is on, I can't be held responsible. It's TV's fault.
Soon 12 days off (in a ROW) will be MINE and I'll get to do everything on my list. Get drunk at Disneyland (well, California Adventure anyway, that's where they sell the wine) and look at art all day at the Getty Center and go hiking in Runyon Canyon in the hopes of seeing a celebrity walking their dog. Doesn't matter who.
And there will be beach lounging. Oh my, yes, there will be lounging.
