A 12 hour vacation

I had to go to Maine for a work meeting today and Abby suggested that I go up to my golks house Wednesday afternoon unstead of leaving from the hospital at the crack of dawn to drive up, go the meeting and then drive back. This idea got to Maine and quickly my brother had devised a plan to fish for striped bass Wednesday evening when I got to Freeport and Thursday AM before I went to my meeting. He has always been big on ambitious plans but I was in for the plan.

Until I drove into my parent's driveway and realized exactly how tired I was. Tired is the best word for where Abby and I are on the big scale of things, but it really is only for lack of a better word. We have essentially been 'on' for the since April 8 when I had to put the Jimmy Dean sausages back in the fridge and drive to the hospital. Yes we sleep. Yes we take nights off, but we are always a phone call away from a shit storm, or more appropriately these days, a barf storm.

Last night was the first time that I could shut down and I took a 12 hour vacation. I could just sit and turn off and it was great. I closed my eyes and talked to my folks.

I ate a steak. I ate a lobster roll made from questionably legal sized lobsters. I drank two cold Pabst Blue Ribbons. I met my niece and visited with my nephews who wanted to know where Abby was and whether we had a baby at our house, too. I thought about Abby and Eleanor in the hospital.

At 5 this morning my charter captain was in the driveway and by 5:20 I was afloat with a rod in my hand gor some hydro therapy.

2 hours, two tiny fish, and some good time on the water later, I was back on shore and off to work.

A heckuva 12 hours.

Good for what ails you. I want Abby to get away some time, too. She puts in much longer hours than I do now that I am working a few days a week from the hospital. A day away is in order for her sometime soon. If only I could convince her to put down her baby for a whole day...