Have you noticed how even the shortest of away-overnight holidays requires effort? Maybe not so much if you travel all the time, but when you do it just two or three times a year, it's a bit of a pain - planning in advance for what you'll want to wear, where you might want to go, whether you're likely to be inspired to write or knit or walk in the rain
(I've decided I won't, even though I know it will rain on at least one of the days I'm away this week, and will concede to an umbrella but not a second pair of shoes)
and so on.
Anyway the little vacation I'm packing for is throwing off my routine entirely. On top of the whole packing thing I have to go over my kitchen counters today and clear them of all the paper that's piled up in the last 4-6 months since the Bad Time started, because pretty much the minute I get back I'm having a house guest, but
I don't wanna!
I finished Emma very very early this morning, and I want to start another Austen.
I want to sit in the garden and ignore the weeds and eat more strawberries.
I want to work on a short story and do some knitting.
I want to nap, and maybe watch another movie, and generally be on holiday here.
On the upside, apart from that one day the weather will be beautiful where I'm going, and the days filled with extraordinarily agreeable friends and family and places I like to visit. So I guess it's worth it.
Still don't want to deal with the paper mountain, though.