Friends, I have little to write about tonight.
I think it is Thursday. I know I am on vacation. I know I am in Florida. I know my son packed several pairs of soccer uniform shorts as his shorts and every time I see him in number 22 red soccer shorts I feel a hot flash of rage that simmers below the surface. I know tomorrow I will visit several fake countries and I will yell at my children to learn about other cultures in those fake countries while holding a cultural cocktail in my hand and perhaps sloshing it on myself.
This is me on vacation!
My son, in his number 22 soccer shorts which also doubles as pajamas, is asking how I turn off the various hotel lights (I HAVE NO IDEA NO ONE KNOWS JUST PRESS ALL THE BUTTONS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD). I will not turn them off until I finish writing because I am mirco-aggressing against the number 22 soccer shorts.
This is me on vacation and everyday, frankly. I have no idea how to turn off the lights in my house.
My husband is now making noises at me because I will not commence the pressing of all the buttons to turn off all the lights. He even said, "THIS IS ALL RIDICULOUS."
AND I KNOW IT IS.
But I am on vacation and I think I deserve a tiny bit of light for as long as I can have it. Right?
I just turned the light off. And someone said thank you. That same someone is now loudly tossing and turning and scared of the dark.
I know I sound like I am complaining; but I don't want any of this to end.
Ever. Especially the sloshing of drinks and whatnot.
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