Resorting to Vacation

I have a bad attitude about being home these days.  Being home means taking care of stuff.  It means mowing the damned lawn, which in a season with plenty of rain and just enough sweltering heat and sun like we have this year you can pretty much watch it grow.  And then mow it again.  And to boot, I ran my mower over a bit of concrete early in the season and have had to deal with whatever it is that has made my blade come loose.  It's been fine for awhile, but still, it's my job to anticipate it coming loose again and to worry about it until it does, or until November, whichever comes first.

And then there are the damned trees.  I am no fan of trees, unless they are ornamental and I have chosen to share my yard with them.  So sue me.  But the ornamentals get diseases and either die or continue to live but taunt me with their fungal growth.  I grew mimosas from seeds that I had taken from the bridge at Wadmalaw Island when I first moved here, because I think flowering mimosas are the most glorious sight ever, even better than the drink.  I was tickled that they grew so abundantly here in the south, and watched the tree that I had apparently planted in the perfect spot as it grew and flowered and grew and flowered for years, until one year it died.  It made me watch it die, as one branch wilted, and I cut it off, and then another wilted and I cut that one off, until finally I realized it was always going to be one step ahead of me, and I just let it go, which I imagine it did with a sigh of relief.  It was heartbreaking.

But the oaks are just another whole damn matter.  I don't care what kind of oak it is, I'm disgusted with all of them, even the one they worship down here, the "live" oak (as opposed to what, the "dead" oak?).  They do die, every year, and at the time of year that things are supposed to be coming alive.  And when they do this dastardly transition from life to death to life again, they spit all kinds of crap onto the earth, which includes my car and my pool.

And don't get me started on the "water oak."  I would say they are the worst of the weeds, but there is so much competition down here.  I have a few ornamentals by the road that are trying hard to survive, but water oaks come up right in the same spot, and I have to cut them back twice a year, which of course I don't, because I refuse to be "Yardwork 'R' Us" in whatever years I have left.

The alternative being to sit on my porch with a good book and get aggravated because I should be:  weeding, cutting, mowing.  And cleaning the algae off the sides of my house, vacuuming my pool, sealing the deck, painting the porch... and I haven't even gotten to housecleaning yet.

I just noticed yesterday that my car, with 174,000 miles on it, appears to be peeling, like the dead skin off a sunburn.  I'd been hoping to settle for just maintaining the working parts of it; as with my philosophy about myself, I'm more concerned with function than cosmetics.

Outside my window, right now, there is a thunderstorm.  But I'm not at home, so I don't have to worry about losing power.  The resort has wifi and cell reception, so for a week anyway I don't have to deal with AT&T.  The biggest crisis I have had this week is that last night I didn't feel like going out to get dinner and I hadn't bought anything to cook, so I popped a bag of popcorn -- provided by the resort -- and ate some shrimp I had bought and boiled on Monday.  I was proud of the way I handled the crisis, but believe me, that's not happening again soon.  I made a run for cheese, olives and crackers this afternoon (no, still not going to cook).

This was an unexpected vacation, as I was unable to rent out my August timeshare this year.  So this vacation week was sandwiched between my annual Rhode Island family birthday reunion / beach fest (one person can make a fest) and an impulsive redweek.com purchase of a very reasonably priced week at Fort Myers Beach at the end of August.

It felt excessive.  Not only do I tend to feel guilty about going away too much, I have a very dear friend who responds to my informing her that I am going on vacation by asking, "Vacation from what?"

But it's worked out so well that I might even do it again next summer.  And I'm thinking about actually taking two weeks to meander up the coast to Rhode Island in the winter, for Christmas, because I am feeling so adventurous.

I worry about what fires I will have to put out when I get home.  Fortunately, there have not as yet been fires, but there are occasionally things that have broken that need tending.  And the grass needs mowing.  Again.  But at least I haven't had to watch it.