wired

There's something about that last day of work before going on vacation where the adrenaline just seems to flow more abundantly than normal. Must be a combination of excitement about the trip and the anxiety of wondering whether or not I'll be able to get everything done before leaving. Being somewhat (more accurately, that should read "completely") anal-retentive, I'll check my voice mail message more than once, make sure my away-message is set on my work e-mail account, and straighten my desk before I walk out of my office.

Our kitchen countertops at home is scattered with several lists for vacation. Gotta make sure everyone's medicine is packed, along with pillows, movies, PS2 games, cds, golf clubs and shoes, batteries, and, oh yeah, CLOTHES. I always tell Susie that if our house ever burns down while we're on vacation, we should be fine because we bring almost everything with us when we go. The guest room bed is piled with everyone's clothes for the week. Even though there's a washer/dryer in the condo and we're taking less because we can wash things, it still looks like too much. But I live with three beautiful ladies, and beautiful ladies don't necessarily travel light. The van will be full, and I'm sure when I start out packing it will appear that there's no way everything will fit. But it always does.

As I was pulling down the beach chairs and boogie boards from the garage last night, I mentioned to Susie that in 48 hours I would have already ridden the waves. She had to correct me, because I thought it was Thursday when it was actually Wednesday, and I changed the hour amount to 72. Susie said I was just like a kid who couldn't wait until Christmas, and I'll have to admit that she's right. I may be getting ready to turn 40, but I'll have more than my share of salt water sucked up my nose over the next week. My sinuses should be clear while there.

We'll meet up with the Moffitts in less than 48 hours and head for North Myrtle Beach. By this time Saturday morning, we should be about an hour past Ashville. I'm looking forward to a week of no agendas, meetings or Lotus Notes. Sure, I'll have my Palm Pilot, but only for contact information. The only reminder that will pop up while I'm gone will be one telling me that I'm on vacation. And the only appointments Chris and I have to worry about will be our tee times.....