Few things are more stressful than getting ready for vacation. Clearing the desk at work requires the feverish reflexes of a weasel on Five-Hour energy drinks, and planning the itinerary is a task only equaled in complexity by the D-Day invasion, or a North Korean parade.
But it finally all falls into place, or the clock runs out–one of those–and it’s time to go. Except for a few odds and ends, like writing this post from home, because I ran out of time on my last day at work, and it’s too hot to think about packing the car–the tiny, tiny car–with everything we said we were going to bring.
It’ll be great. We’re going to stay at the world-famous Tamelife Sanctuary at Wellfleet on Cape Cod. There we will join other pale doughy members of our species at the rich unspoiled feeding grounds and its pristine habitat of groomed beaches, pleasant bistros, and well-stocked bookstores. I shall not Facebook, neither shall I Tweet.
Wellfleet, it turns out, is a popular NCPR destination. Both Radio Bob and New Media Bill recommended renting a bike near the Marconi monument and pedaling 26 miles to Provincetown. Clearly, we have different definitions of the word vacation. I think I will sit and look at the ocean a lot, and hydrate frequently. After a few hours, I may write a poem about looking at the ocean. If I feel sufficiently postmodern, I might even write a poem about writing a poem about looking at the ocean. Or I may just take a nap.
In any event–no Listening Post next week. But I’ll be thinking of you. Then I’ll take a few deep breaths, look at the ocean some more, and stop thinking altogether.