Our life has always brought more mini-getaways than full-blown multi-week excursions to exotic locales. It was our reality, so we learned to appreciate daytrips and weekends away.
We’ve also had no problem mixing work with pleasure. If one of us was a delegate to a conference, the other tagged along. Getting together at the end of the session for an evening meal or a conference banquet was a treat. Staying in a hotel was a treat, whether it was in Edmonton, Baton Rouge, Halifax, or Vancouver. Sleeping in was a treat. Taking time to see the sights and shop the city without being rushed was a treat.
Spending a week at an all-inclusive Mexican resort feels like we died and went to heaven.
As I write this, we have fewer than seven days until we head to the Mayan Riviera for my niece’s wedding. In total, 33 of us are going. The excitement is starting to get palpable as we compare the status of our packing, how much spending money we’re taking, and what we have to accomplish before jetting off.
In the past, anticipation of the time away has always been nearly as sweet as the trip itself. I enjoyed researching the destination, planning excursions, and scoping out the must-see retail offerings. I packed as smart as an over-packer can possibly pack when trying to anticipate every eventuality.
Like everyone else, I also got really productive in the days leading up to departure. Projects got completed, calls made, emails sent. There was frenzied activity as we attempted to secure our home and possessions. The goal was to leave things in good shape.
This time, my list feels especially long and filled with minutiae. In my gut I know it will all get done, because it has to?but I’m wondering how. I started packing so long ago that now I need to recheck everything and see what I’ve forgotten. I need to turn the house over to find the sun hat I bought in Palm Springs.
Tomorrow I have appointments with both the chiropractor and the massage therapist (don’t want to go with the current kinks in my neck and achy body). Then in the evening I drive into Edmonton to see Oprah. Add in a couple more out-of-town meetings Tuesday and Wednesday, at least one of which requires me to prepare a budget for an inaugural event. In the meantime, I can’t decide if I should drag my laptop and sorry butt to an Edmonton hotel to work while Roy attends a conference, or be smart and stay home. By the time the mani-pedi scheduled for Saturday rolls around I’m hoping everything will be done, including figuring out how we’re getting to the airport and who’s checking the house. God willing, the twin cold sores that sprouted a few days ago will be a memory. I’m so ready to party, from where I sit.
Hazel Anaka’s first novel is Lucky Dog. Visit her website for more information or follow her on Twitter @anakawrites.