I'm here; the Cicadas are gone

Vacation's over.  Beautiful Bermuda is but a piece of my memory.  I guess it's more than that to the people who live there, but you know what I mean. 

It was a cruel return to reality when my return flight was delayed until 2 a.m. the morning of our return.  Then our car broke down (they can't figure out what's wrong with it), our internet stopped working (I'm currently on modem number three in the past week), and our lawn guy stood us up right before we had relatives in town, causing me to spend a morning searching in vain to find an emergency lawnmower on short notice.  The Frogs of Doom are back in my neighbor's pool.

And I didn't even mention my real job.

One of Newton's most overlooked laws of physics is that your everyday life will go to pieces immediately upon your return from vacation.  Trust me, I'm definitely back.  I'm not happy about it, but I'm here. 

As for you, you really, really hate cicadas.  Not that I blame you, of course.  Those things are gross.  The cicadas attack! column alone did more traffic than I often get in an entire month. 

The cicadas brought me by far the most read blog post of all time, but I'm still thankful they are--finally--gone.  No amount of ad money is worth having to live with thousands of the insectual embodiment of Satan at your doorstep.  Actually it might be ok if they were at your doorstep, but it's certainly not worth it if they are at mine.  

When the cicadas come back in 13 years to take over Nashville once again, I will have a more organized plan to fight back.  Next time, I'm going to Bermuda for an entire month. 

Until then, the blog is back.  You can expect at least one post a week (usually on Tuesday, but give me a day's leeway either direction if life gets crazy). 

Which it will.  Because my vacation is over.

Finally, a real vacation

So, I'm heading out tomorrow to fly to Miami for a seven-day Caribbean Cruise leaving Sunday. I've had an impossibly busy last 3 months dispensing justice to those least desiring it, so I'm counting down the minutes until my relaxing 10-day weekend starts.

At least I hope it's relaxing. I return from almost every single vacation more exhausted than when I left. One of my personality flaws is an unrealistic expectation of the number of things I can accomplish in a given time, so I tend to overbook every minute of my life. This is why I don't blog more often. And also why I forgot to call you back last night.

Anyway, my wife and I are vowing not to do that this time (Except in San Juan, where there's just too much we want to see to fit in the 8 hours we are there. You don't expect me to stop overcommitting cold turkey, right?). Instead, I'm hoping to sit in the sun and stare blankly into the sun for 7 straight days, taking the occasional crumpet or fruit-influenced drink that the poolside attendants bring my way.

Every day when you cruise you get a list of activities for the next day, which all sound fabulously entertaining on paper. Half of the time these things are great, but the other half, the champagne art auction is usually low on champagne and high on high pressure sales pitches for bad art; the trivia is filled with loud talkers and questions about obscure 1940s cinema; and the production shows are less entertaining than the karaoke in the back lounge.

I love crusing, but unless you are going for a non-stop party (which is in fact a very good reason to cruise), the endless supply of available activities can defeat the purpose of getting away from an overburdened life. I'm not going to let that happen this time. I'm going to sleep in, sit on my private balcony, eat well, and maybe sing some Elvis if there's the usual nightly karaoke.

I can't wait. I'll tell you all about it when I come back.

If I come back.