This is it. It's finally dawned on me that we won't be in New Hampshire much longer. Before we know it, we'll be in the van, heading back to Newtopia and a new school year.
So there's no time like the present to get up early and bike over to Portsmouth to have a look at the water as the sun comes up,
and take a peek at the Wentworth-Gardner house.
And I couldn't be more happy that my husband had the chance to do so while I was sleeping late this morning.
Because as far as I'm concerned, that's the evil side of back-to-school. The school supplies are bought and paid for. New clothes? Hey, no problem; they'll just wear what they're wearing now. Packing lunches? Homework? Piles of paper taking over every inch of my house? I can deal with all that.
What really bothers me is that come August 28th, we're all going to have to get up at the crack of dawn every morning--not just my husband. Which? Sucks.
During this vacation, I've devolved to my normal circadian rhythms. I'm living the way I would live if I didn't have to worry about work (what work?) or children (what children?) I stay up until 3:00 a.m. and sleeping until 10:00 or so in the morning.
OK, so I'm a total sloth. This explains why the best jobs I ever had were the most loserish ones--the waitress/bartender gigs. They suited my bass-ackward notions of when to go to bed at night.
But that was when I was in college. My first office job after college almost killed me. I mean it; I was nearly dead every morning. I had to be there at 8:00, dressed up and ready to answer the phones. I'd sit at my desk and glumly pump coffee, and woe betide anyone who spoke to me before 10:15 or so.
So here I am, realizing that pretty soon I'll be getting up at 6:30 every morning. To get my kids to school at 8:00.
Pardon me while I sob. (Albeit slothfully.)