Slowly deflating
The long awaited moment has arrived. The mad sprint at work, where the amount of work and the time allocated had nothing in common has finally passed (without any loss of blood), and I have cleaned up my cubicle. That should keep those around me in a state of stunned disbelief for a few hours on Monday. I’ve started my annual leave.
There was a time, before, when I would have already half-packed the car (oh, the memories of things forgotten) for the great eastern migration. Now I’m just in the mood to catch my breath, watch the moon go down and see if sleeping more than five hours in a row is an option. We’ve got lots of time (and not enough money), so why not take things slow for a few days.
This evening saw sons #2 and #3 head off to the Wyclef Jean concert, together. This marks a first for the youngest; he’ll get first hand knowledge of crowded places and very loud music. He may also gain a liking for the two, which could change his life dramatically, but that’s ahead of us. For this evening, he still has to find his way home by public transit in the dark. We’re a pair of worried parents, anxious that the fledgling spread wings and glide safely home… the real flying will come in good time.
Of course, our own evening was spent in a camping store, but since the tents didn’t seem to be open for random visitors, we came back home. The walk through one of the “other” neighbourhoods in the city is always thrilling, if only because there’s no way of predicting what we might see or hear. The employment bureau for exotic dancers, or the pawn shops, or the corner stores with more security bars and latched doors than the small number of customers seems to require. I think I’ll stay out in the ‘burbs for now.
