These long weekends are making it harder and harder to come back to work. For the first year working full-time at my current job (all of 2010), I never minded coming to work. In fact, I LIKED coming. Sunday night was no big deal, and on Monday morning I got up and packed my bag with an almost-smile on my face. Now. Not so much.
It's more like I need to drag myself into the car, throw myself a pity party the whole way down Route 1, and then crankily stomp across the parking lot.
This weekend there were good meals had at Stuff Yer Face and Novita, a family party, and then an absolutely wonderful afternoon at the beach in Spring Lake, followed by the perfection that is Strollo's Italian ice.
I am just so happy at the beach. So so happy. The minute I get out of the car and smell that salty air I become a little kid and go skipping (past the monstrously beautiful houses) headed for the sand. I lay on my towel and read my book and just keep pausing to looking around, grinning stupidly. The beach makes me happy.
[It's too bad this photo from yesterday's beach excursion focuses so heavily on the rather large torso of a pale Caucasian fellow]
1 comment:
Ok maybe we are barking up the wrong tree and we should relocate you to the shore! put down your roots near the sand! MAYBE you could scoop Strollos for a living!!
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