From The Ashes ...

Hi, I Can't Come To The Phone Right Now...

My first vacation in 3 years began this morning. Taking a vacation from my job has always been problematic as I am one of two people that do my job. We have one other person that can step in to babysit the business when necessary but he is used on an emergency basis or on a shift when nothing of any substance usually happens. So for the last three years it's been me, Jabba The Drunk and our ragtag bunch of outcasts, freaks and lunatics. My personal squad of mewling hunchbacks. And that's not even counting our customers.

I've taken off a few long weekends. I've managed to hit the beach on a day off on occasion. I even had the chance to visit the family. Strangely, as I note the date of that post being July of last year, I've been telling everyone that I haven't seen my parents in "a couple of years." I wonder why it feels much longer than it actually was? There was also a pre- From The Ashes winter visit, the highlight of which was a vicious winter storm that dumped eight feet! of snow on my ass, turning my three day jaunt home into a grueling, six day, cabin fever inducing prison sentence. That resulted in a ban on winter visits. Making the Holidays problematic.

But this is my first out and out scheduled vacation. Made possible only because we hired temporary help. This very odd German man that works in a restaurant down in Ft Lauderdale. My overlords have quite a few business interests down there and invited this man to spend what is normally the slow season in Florida up here. His main function was to learn to babysit the business for the summer so that Jabba and I could schedule vacations. Now if that sounds extraordinarily generous of the overlords that's because it is. I'm quite sure there is much more to the story of the deeply tanned, frequently glassy-eyed, German temporary migrant worker. For some reason I think it involves a leather hood and ball-gag. I'm just too, too tired to even try to discover what it is. This vacation couldn't have come at a better time because quite frankly, The Duchess is burnt crispy. I'm taking today to decompress. I woke up wound tighter than (insert stringed instrument metaphor as illustrative joke here, I can't think of one). I'm wrapping up some loose ends around the apartment, making sure the bills are paid and the house is tidy. Yes, I clean before I leave town, I know that's weird. But a tiny part of me deep down seems to say "If anything happens when you're traveling, at least they won't say your house was messy." So I dust. Besides, I like to come home to the clean.

Tomorrow I fly to Buffalo. I'm a little apprehensive. I had a series of panic attacks on a long weekend in Provincetown. One on an airplane to Provincetown and one before the return flight from Logan. I think there was one during the weekend. Small wonder I don't look on that trip and think "fun". Ever since then I've been a little skittish about flying. I have flown since without incident. I've developed a little routine that seems to work. No drinking the night before a flight. Tonight, I'll enjoy some alcohol-free bed rest. That right there usually elevates my mood. My flight isn't until 5 pm tomorrow so I won't be rushing to the airport or ramped up on coffee. Plus, this time I have my one-two anxiety med combo. So while nervous today, it should be fine. The flight is ridiculously short. You read a decent magazine and then prepare for landing. Besides, my desire to see my family and help my niece celebrate her birthday should, in fact, supersede my groundless fears.

I am counting on Buffalo being as sleepy and boring as it usually is for me. I just want to visit with family and fall asleep in the afternoon and go out for mind-bogglingly cheap and plentiful food. I plan on resting my poor liver for most of my trip as well. I return to New York Monday night, and then three more days off before work resumes. Posts should continue un-abated. Mom's got a dial-up connection. I may have time to pop something up tomorrow. Wish me good journey!