Wednesday, February 20, 2013

February: Winter's F-Word.

It has been a long winter, folks, made longer by the knowledge that everyone with whom I've ever had the pleasure of acquaintance is going on vacation. Dominican Republic, Mexico, Florida, Caribbean cruise, Texas, Jamaica…the list grows longer on a daily basis and I sink deeper and deeper into an abyss of self-pity. We were supposed to go away. We had known about it for a year. Dominican Republic. A 5-star resort. A one-week reunion trip to celebrate a tenth wedding anniversary. Nothing was going to stop me from being on the beach next week.

Now, I don't want to say that it's all my husband's fault…so why don't you go ahead and say it for me?

Thank you.

Now, there are a couple of ways I can deal with this paralyzing disappointment that I'm feeling. Some of them are more productive and less petty than others. And after much deliberation, the path I've chosen to take is to make a firm committment to myself.

Hear ye! Hear ye!

I do hereby solemnly declare that, for each of the remaining Februarys that I have on this Earth, I will go on vacation. Somewhere warm - or a the very least warm-ish - where I am not responsible for cleaning up after myself or my family, and preferably where someone will prepare my food and remove dirty dishes from my field of vision before I even have the opportunity to wonder if they should be rinsed first. Somewhere where mittens and hats are wholly unnecessary, if not altogether forbidden. Somewhere where the food and booze flow unimpeded by my neglect to go to the grocery and liquor stores, where there is simply no reason to check the time, where I don't give a hoot whether our driveway has been plowed or we remembered to put salt down. I'm going to assume that you are beginning to get the idea. Despite my daughter's birthday AND my husband's birthday, and yes, despite Valentine's day, February sucks. And in Ottawa it sucks hard. A girl needs a break from all of this.

Don't tell E, but I think I've already figured out her birthday gift for next year. A trip to a magical place where the sun shines all year and one wouldn't find the word snow in any proximity to the word shovel. A little place called Disneyland, in February.

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