I just went back and read my posts from the last two years that I had written just before my May beach trip. I did this because I have been a slug this week. Where is that normal excitement energy? The 2009 post said I was so excited I felt like my skull was going to crack open. Right now I feel like such a dullard, my skull would more likely implode into the vacuum of what should be my brain. Mom would say it was my biorhythms. My best guess is that the four flights in one week that I did for my 50th birthday gave me some sort of travel brain damage.
There is no place I would rather be than the beach cottage, so what's going on here? Is it the dread of hauling luggage through the airport, going through security, slow walking down the gangplank of stand and wait while people try to stuff their crap in the overhead bins, then wait 20 minutes for a beer while sitting in something less comfortable than a dentist's chair? I feel like Charlie Brown complaining about Christmas, which I never quite understood.
I hope the old adage Mother knows best is true here and it's just my biorhythms. Maybe they are just at low tide or something. And maybe just like at the beach, the tide will change.