The Pre-cation

First, off; my apologies for being absent last week. There was/is a point to it, and I will get to that. 

Secondly, it occurred to me in my latest therapy session, that somehow, perhaps in the night, perhaps when I was out getting groceries, I got happy. Like, I'm a happy person again. 

Now, don't get all annoyed and stop reading this blog, there is still much more brooding and bleak content to come.  And as I have learned, painfully, time and time again, happiness is still a fleeting and cruel, unfaithful "fuck boy" that may rock my world and then leave me pining and insecure until it texts me weeks/months later with a "you up?". 

Nevertheless, I'm fuckin' happy. Let me explain. 

The thing is, you make me happy. Yes, you, dearest reader. I'm not entirely sure who you are and if there are more than one of you (mum's don't count--Hi Mum!) but I know you're out there. And every time I post, you read (shout out to my google stats page). This is super important for me. You give me my voice. So, thanks. And again, sorry I stood you up last week. 

I have another confession to make, I'm on vacation. I have been (sort of) since last Monday (with a brief stint of 3 shifts over the weekend). Which brings me to the point of this post, I'm here to tell you a secret about vacationing in your 40's: the pre-stay-cation.  Myself and my insane workaholic chef partner have discovered this powerful tool for maximizing our 2 weeks a year that we get to spend more than 15 minutes a day together and I'm here to tell you all about it. 

Book your 2 weeks off and then split it up into 2-4 days of staying at home and then the remaining 8-10 days in a destination of your choice. The reason being that so many times I have booked a full 2 weeks somewhere and put alll my hopes and dreams and savings and expectations and needs and wants (are you dizzy yet from running beside this run-on sentence?) and when I finally arrive there, I'm staring at a human I barely know or recognize (thanks 80 hour work weeks!) in a strange place without any comforts of home. It's jarring, it's weird and I most certainly end up having a meltdown. I can't even really take credit for this idea, as it was actually my partner's. We had originally booked the 4 days prior to our 9 day trip for driving up the island to see family.  Then our 17 year old car broke down the week before all this and since we had earmarked all our $$ for our trip-we didn't want to sink anything into the money pit that is our 2001 Pontiac Aztek. 

Partner suggested the unimaginable; let's stay home for the 4 days.....and do nothing but spend time together. I believe his words were "why don't we just hang out and get to know each other again so it's not so weird next week when we're forced to be together for 9 days and have fun.." and by "weird" I'm pretty sure he meant  "..so it's not so (much like last time when you have a 14 day long low grade anxiety attack until you finally imploded)." 

He just gets me.

So that's what we did. We ordered takeout, we set up the couch into a lounge-y sectional and curled up with the dog. We watched scary movies, sad movies, and did face masks. We even had an adorable fight. And by the end of it (when we both went back to work for 3 days) we could barely wait to take our trip together. 

Maybe you all have "normal", "healthy" relationships where you eat dinner together every night and have a bar trivia team and share a personal trainer. Maybe I secretly wish that I had that to. But instead I get to be with a head strong, driven, creative and caring food mastermind that never takes a day off. And frankly, for my hyper-artist-manic-pixie dream girl trope-ass, he's the perfect match. 

So now we are in Austin, Texas. We got here last night after an insane day of travel where I only got irritable but did not freak out (pats obsessive/controlling/emotional/stubborn scorpio self on back). And we're here to make the best of the next 8 days. 

Stay tuned.