Can't A Guy Get A Break?

 So here I sit. Three weeks into my summer vacation and I don't know exactly what to do with myself. A lot of this has to do with spending all of last summer in lockdown. A year ago my wife and I reveled in the quick trips we took down to San Luis Obispo to help our son move out of his house and into another one. We wore masks and ate takeout, but at least we weren't cowering in our living room. We did that when we got home. 

And then there was the ongoing discussion and work to prepare for what turned out to be an entire school year spent in distance learning. The idea that we have now come out on the other side and are equipped to handle any sort of educational emergency may be a tad premature, but after fifteen months of making up solutions as the problems presented themselves, we could all use a break. 

There was some wild talk about rushing down to Disneyland to take part in the angst bubble bursting in Anaheim. The crowds alone were not enough to keep us away. The crowds coupled with the expense and the vague sense of trepidation was. Fully vaccinated and government restrictions lifted, we still have a feeling that there is something lurking out there. A virus. A recession. A something.

How about a Mega Drought? Yes, just when we thought we might all be getting away with something, the state of California is telling us that while we were all locked indoors this past spring, there was no precipitation. Not enough to fill reservoirs or allow for rinsing off cars or water balloon fights. Running through the sprinkler on a hot June afternoon is contraindicated. 

And our son is living in our basement now, so we don't have moving his worldly possessions as a distraction. We have all become so accustomed to watching movies on the pretty big screen in front of our couch that the anxiety that comes with crowds at the local theater can be easily avoided. Restaurants are open, but that just means more time away from the couch, where we can continue to watch all that on-demand content while we shovel in takeout. 

So maybe we're just preparing to become some genetic mutants like the Morlocks in HG Wells' Time Machine. Unaccustomed to light, and able to exist on little to no water while staring at screens that intermittently flash entertainment at us while we wait for the next Zoom meeting to commence. It's so much easier than going outside and returning to our regularly scheduled existence.