Saturday, April 22, 2017
A day is 24 hours, last time I checked, and while I like to have a post up at midnight, it isn't a RULE. As your amiable host, I get to set the rules. And the truth is--truth being a value even more valued than consistency--when it was midnight in Chicago Saturday, it was 7 a.m. in Paris, and I was just stirring in our hotel room in the Latin Quarter. Dinner and packing kept us busy until midnight, there was no energy or inclination to cull some words from the herd and assemble them in any kind of cohesive order. Now it's almost time for a quick croissant and the bolt to the airport.
Or maybe not so much of a bolt. The sign of a good vacation is it resets your carburetor a little, dials it back from a frantic roar to a steady purr. Cabbies good or bad, flights early or late, crowded or empty, we'll get back all the same, to the deep rut we've shuffled over years. And when we do, we'll even appreciate THAT. Another reason you go on vacation: to come back. To experience that sweet moment went you drop your bags, look around, smile, and say to yourself, "Hey, I live here! This is pretty nice!"
Not a bad thought. I began this thinking I was telling you you'd have to wait until tonight. But I think this will do. Back at full 10-finger strength tomorrow.