Reading on the Beach is my Happy Place

Over the past couple of weeks I’ve been feeling a bit worn down. Maybe it’s Seasonal Affective Disorder (damn you Michigan with your clouds and shit) or maybe it’s the realization that, just because the calendar changed that doesn’t mean anything else did. There’s still the same ignorance, hate, and bile that 2020 had. With those cheerful thoughts in mind, I packed.

Why was I packing, you ask? Because I was LEEEEEEAVING ON A JET PLANE!

My parents are slowly evolving into snowbirds. Snowbirds, for people not familiar with the concept, are people who flee their homes to spend several winter months in the much warmer southern half of the country. They rented a house in Naples and I put in my week’s worth of PTO request in back in October.

Needless to say, I was excited. My carry-on was packed a solid two weeks before I checked in. And despite the fact that I didn’t need it I scoured the condo for my passport. I mean – you never know when you’ll need to flee the country and I like to be prepared.

I left for Florida the 17th and returned home last night.

I had a blast!

Reading on the beach is one of my top five favorite activities of all time. I love digging my toes into the sand with the salty breeze wafting over me as I dive into an adventure. The best part of reading about rather than experiencing an adventure is that I can be lazy and don’t get the injuries that are inevitably thrust on the main character.

It was a week of fun, Floridian sun, and relaxation. I feel like I kind of mentally unclenched. It was exactly what I needed and I’m so grateful to my parents for making it possible.

I’d hoped to get some writing done but I accidentally brought my writer’s block with me. šŸ˜…

Bye for now!

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