Dancing on the Precipice
I understand there is some sort of kerfuffle going on in the world. People panicking, going into lockdown mode. I’ve been sitting on the beach, sipping cold beer, and listening to the waves come in. We all react to existential threats in our own way, I suppose.
The point is, I’m on vacation. When the going gets tough, I go on vacation. How’s that for a motto?
The end of the trip nears. We board a plane tomorrow for the flight home. It’s been good, though I may have spent way too much on tequila. Now, scratch that, that’s impossible. These five-to-ten days of vacation never hit a sweet spot. I either want to stay longer or I’m exhausted and ready to get back to my quotidian life.
What that quotidian life will consist of now is an open question as of this writing. (This half-in-the bag writing. I’ve been sitting beach-and-pool-side, going through another round of edits on Karl Thorson and Santa Anna’s Sword while consuming iced buckets of Modelo Especial. Writers are never truly on vacation.) I hope to find life returning to some sense of normalcy. But hope is a suckers game, so I’m bringing home a package of TP in the suitcase. What is up with this TP hoarding, by the way? What are you people thinking?
Anyways, the point is, I’ve had a good time. Most was spent in a resort in Nuevo Vallarta, with only a single boat excursion along a canal behind the property. Want to see some pictures?