Desperately I am afraid.
I know this because as I walked out of my office yesterday and stepped out I looked down at the brand new carpeting they had just put down and all I could think was how much it looked like carpet you would see at some fancy hotel. And for a minute I swore I could see a hidden mickey in it. If I closed my eyes hard enough I could even smell that hotel smell. A strange mix of suntan lotion and seawater.
I was disappointed when I opened my eyes only to find that I was in fact not in the middle of sunny-or rainy at the moment-Florida. But rather making my way out of the office, and it was only Tuesday. And I still have 36 days to go before I could even think about the word vacation.
As I sat there on the free shuttle my company offers to get to metro, a gentleman sat down beside me when I catch a glimpse of his watch. And the dial is in the shape of? A hidden Mickey. That's right apparently I am seeing them everywhere. I have to take my eyes away in order not to seem creepy. Except as I do so, there is that damn metro bus that has a sign for Turkey vacations. Not that I have any desire to go, but damn if that doesn't look fabulous. And lets not mention that the bus seems awfully familiar. Like it looks a hell of a lot like the ones that they drive around on Disney property. And well there I go again.
I do my best to avoid thinking about anything with the words, Disney, Florida, vacation...beach. I pump my music up and start the ride home. Metro is packed, before long it will be standing room only. Thankfully I am able to manage a seat. I rest my head against the glass, trying so desperately hard to not think about vacation. I focus on the stops, counting down to my own, play peek-a-boo with a toddler across from me. I finish a book I started three days earlier. It seemed to work. I was doing good. Yes I was. Until two girls just graduating roll their luggage onto Metro. Floppy straw hats in toe. Smiles are plastered on their faces yapping about how in four hours they will be sitting poolside, a daiquiri in hand served by some guy named Pedro. He will of course look amazing. I realize I am envious of them. Not only do I suddenly wish to ask if I can somehow cram myself in their luggage-but also a daiquiri served by a hot guy named Pedro sounds amazing right then. Maybe I should ask and I look over at their direction when their stop was called. In an hour they would find themselves boarding, off to some luxury resort and I would be stuck in rush hour traffic.
I know I need a vacation because I am hating all those that are heading, going or leaving for vacation. It doesn't matter that a month from now they will be the ones to be watching me and wishing for the same while I will be the one to be off enjoying Florida.
And I know I need a vacation because as I sit in morning traffic for all two hours, I begin to realize just how much I could do with two hours somewhere other than being stuck in rush hour traffic. Like laying on the beach, enjoying breakfast at the Poly. Getting on Space Mountain...standing on Main Street as it pours buckets of rain. Which I am reminded is probably happening at the moment.
But damn I would take that over being stuck in the office on a glorious day.
After all a rainy day on vacation beats a sunny day anywhere else.
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