Hawaii Big Island
“Show me the way to go home, I’m tired and I wanna go to bed. Had me a drink about an hour ago and it went right to my head. Wherever I may roam, Oe’r land or sea or foam, you can always hear me singin’ this song, show me the way to go home.” — Irving King
It’s time to go home from vacation. I hit my saturation point this morning. I have a lovely Sun Cold Sore developing on my lower left lip just in time for the BlogHer conference this weekend where I’m supposed to make friends and smile with my leprosied mouth.
We’ve spent too much money at the Hawaiian resort we’ve been in since we left my brother’s house in Holualoa.
It’s the freaking Hotel Taxes. They tell you the room’ll be 300$ a night, but what they really mean is 500$ a night, all of your meds, your left testicle/ovary (such as they are), the deed to your house and your sad, little, mottled soul.
I’ve also become indifferent to beautiful sights.
Another red, purple, pink and orange sunset. Yawn. A dolphin begging me to rub his tummy. Belch. A sea turtle nipping my bum flirtatiously as I snorkel. Flatulence. My kids laughing uproariously as they plunge down the lava slide. ZZZZ.
Speaking of which, Henry, Clare, Bridget and I are sick of each other. The kids don’t realize they’re sick of us, but they are. And we feel guilty for being sick of them, but we are.
I need to go home and clean my toilet. Feed my cats. Work really hard. Spy on the teenage neighbors to see if they’re selling ganja out of their kitchen window. It’s the little things I miss.
Also, I’ve shot past my “I-deserve-this” point. I’m now well into – what have you done for someone else lately you lazy, entitled Paris-Hilton-minus-the-sex-tape-plus-20-lbs slag?
Having said all that … Here’s what’s great about summer vacation (inner child POV) …
|(Visiting your relatives and wishing they’d adopt you.)|
|(Watching your cool older cousin torture your uncle.)|
|(Wishing your mom and your auntie would quit with the Lovefest.)|
|(Rolling down hills with your cousins.)|
|(Moments of Zen.)|
|(Trying something new that freaks your parents out.)|
|(Driving your parents batshit)|
|(McDonalds makes you feel like you’re home where ‘ere you go!)|
|(Telling your mom her Wine won’t stop your Whine)|