Graveyard Dirt: Two Worlds and In-between

Random Factors

OH, GOD, VACATION - HERE YOU ARE WITH YOUR SCORCHING, TOTALLY NON-SCOTTISH HEAT, INFLATABLE POOLS WITH HOLES AND HOUSES SO HOT THAT YOU'RE REQUIRED TO PONYTAIL YOUR HAIR SO IT DOESN'T PLASTER TO THE SWEAT OF YOUR NAKED BACK WHILE SLEEPING. (<- I've slept au naturel since a teenager; anything more than socks is like being strangled while sleeping.)

Yesterday I awoke to beautiful silence. (Which is, honestly, something you probably hear readily at 2:30 AM on an early Wednesday morning, but this wasn't the artificial version of "beautiful silence" when the house hums with a gentle serenity due to everyone being asleep. This is the proper quiet, the REAL quiet - the quiet shared between you and the house like a whispered secret before sunrise. In other words? IN-LAWS ARE GONE, THE HOUSE IS /MINE/, PRAISE ALL THAT IS DIVINE AND HOLY FOR THE QUIET AND SOLITUDE OF 2009'S SUMMER HOLIDAY.)

First day of vacation officially began yesterday at some time before three in the morning. I had everything set for a date with Movable Type (the journal program I'm using here on Graveyard Dirt) - an empty looking kitchen (because you don't get much cleaner than "barren and undecorated on the verge of eerie"), a tidy office (as tidy as an office can be when three hyperactive rats call the room their home and two people their workplace) and a single Early Grey teabag sitting at the bottom of a bone dry cup next to the kettle (there's nothing that screams "VAY-CAY-SHUN!" more than me prepping my first cup of tea for the next day the night before - nothing except, maybe, my complete and total lack of clothing; if I'm naked you can bet any amount of money it's "vacation").

Everything - EVERYTHING DOWN TO THE EFFING JOURNAL ENTRY - was planned in advance. What I DIDN'T plan was waking up dehydrated and, consequentially, sick. (DEHYDRATION = INVOLUNTARILY SWALLOWING AIR, INVOLUNTARILY SWALLOWING AIR = AIR THAT GETS PING PONGED FROM BROKEN STOMACH TO MOUTH, AIR THAT GETS PING PONGED FROM BROKEN STOMACH TO MOUTH = BURPING SEIZURE AND DIFFICULTY BREATHING.) And I didn't plan to beeline, first thing, to the bong bucket. And I didn't plan on actually GETTING THAT HIGH, and I didn't plan on Italics staying up (effectively waking up with me), and...well, lots of random variables that can be strung together with the use of "and".

So I eased into this year's summer vacation without an update; sometimes random factors just happen. And since I'm feeling distinctly uninspired (YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE HOW MUCH I'VE WRITTEN AND DELETED, REDRAFTED AND REWORDED) I'm going to bring down the hammer, right now, to spare the world from another journal entry with no purpose.