Beachbound
Packed up the car early this morning and drove to the beach for a week’s vacation. Picked up a chicken biscuit and a coffee on the way out of town. I expected the trek would take the normal three-and-a-half hours, but I made it in record time in just under two and with very little traffic. A cop pulled me over for speeding, but when I told him where I was going, he shook my hand and let me go on my way. Even offered to let me drive his motorcycle. I declined, but he did take a picture of me on his bike, holding his gun.
It’s sunny here, not too hot, our chairs are already out in the sand and it’s not even 9:30 in the morning. I’ll probably break for lunch around 11 and make a ham sandwich. That good ham, one of those bone-in spiral ones that have actually been smoked and aren’t the prepackaged deli slices with “smoke flavor added.” Perhaps, after lunch, I’ll sit by the pool for a while and read. Or try to read, but get distracted by a neat-looking kite or something wearing a bikini. Maybe even crack a raw Budweiser before noon because I enjoy American beer and nothing any foreigner or citizen with their own opinion of what good beer is can change that.
Yep, the beach sure is nice right now. Unfortunately, only my mind is there. It decided to get a head start. My body is still here at home, running through the necessary procedures required in order to shut down real life for a week away that begins on Sunday.
