gettin beachy

Just got back from an impromptu trip to the beach. Now, though it did not involve anyone throwing up like poor Bia experienced, it was equally as bad. And all rolled up into 2 days!
A friend of ours has a "place at the beach" and offered it to us a couple of weeks back. We had never been before, so he explained the ropes. "You'll need to bring your own linens and there is no maid service, so you clean before you leave."
A free place at the beach and the only drawback is that you have to clean up after yourself? No-Ho-Ho Problem-O-Oh! I am the type of person who always cleans before we check out of a hotel anyway. (Well, it also serves as a way to make sure we haven't left anything.)

When we get there Friday night (after a grueling four-hour trip of listening to the sounds of a baby, who was at the tail end of a fever-filled virus, mingled with a Thomas the Tank Engine DVD -shoot me now!) I realized that the folks who borrowed the place last time didn't do such a great job 'cleaning up after themselves'. Within five minutes of being there and kicking off their shoes, the bottom of the kids' feet were black.

Sigh.
Sweep.
Mop.
Clean bathrooms.
Go out to get steamed shrimp.

Saturday morning the wee one was still running fever and feeling puny. After only spending 2 minutes on the beach, she decided she hated it, and I had to take her back to the condo where I decided to fill my leisurely hours with more housework. (Why didn't I bring any light reading, like that copy of War and Peace I'd been wanting to crack into?!?!)

Finally, at about 2:30, went to get lunch and ventured to the mall where I managed to snatch a few bargains at Coldwater Creek (ah, retail therapy!!). Then we went to Mass and met up with some friends to consume more steamed shrimp ......to the sounds of overly-tired-and-obnoxious-by-this-time children.

Today, rather than my trying to wax poetically, you can just merge the past two days' descriptions, minus the shrimp (I am the only one who was steamed today!!) and you will have a mental picture of how things went. King did let me sleep late this morning, so thanks for that, dude! And, much to his credit, he did try to talk me into being the one who took the kids out to the beach, but I knew he really wanted to go (can you say Martyr Complex?). Besides, er... let's just say that I was also experiencing that "need to clean" a woman tends to get once every four weeks or so. Now really, there was no better person to clean that condo, was there?

Today's car ride home was par for the course, complete with trying to appease babykins and listening to trains talk. No offense, but I think I could probably strangle narrator George Carlin by now. I kept wishing he would make Percy or Gordon say something really inappropriate, so I could have some comic relief.

So there you have it, proof that
1) there is no place like home
2) the best part of any vacation is getting "back to-da house".