predispose to heart failure
I saw a guy’s Twitter profile that said, “Horse dad.” Possibilities:
- His son is a horse
- His daughter is a horse
- He is a horse (not in the picture, but maybe a werehorse or maybe it’s not his picture) (and he has children)
- He has a pet horse he loves very much and considers himself its dad
- His children ride him like a horse often and gave him a nickname
- He’s a masculine, dominant gay “daddy” who nonetheless enjoys flipping the script and being ridden like a horse or maybe just has a stallion-sized something IYKWIM(AITYD)
- Something else
This will probably be the last time I write before we leave for Iceland, yes I’m going to Iceland just like every other basic bitch. Every other travel blog = LOOK AT ME IN ICELAND and I am going to walk on the glacier like everyone else. But that’s okay because it is also going to be awesome. We are going to rent a car and drive around and see a whale (hello, whale) and not eat fermented shark or sheep lung. I am not sure what we are going to eat, actually, given the semi-pickiness of the teen. Probably a lot of fish and chips, and I personally am hoping for weird varieties of jerky and crackers to eat in the car. I am also looking forward to the brevity of the air travel. Six hours, that’s nothing! I have sedatives and I have also flown directly from Chicago to Beijing: I fear no air travel! (Actually I fear a lot, about takeoff. But after that I just pretend I am in a weird bus.)
It’s actually a slightly terrible time to leave work for a long-ish vacation, but when is it not. One hilarious dilemma is that supposedly directors (like me) will get the information needed to submit our budget requests the day before I leave, and budgets are due the day I get back. I may finally do what I have always wanted: forgo all the forecasting and twiddling and planning and number-crunching and just put really big numbers in all the columns. Just see what happens.
Another reason it could be deadly to go on this vacation right now: I am in a period of work-depression and increasingly having fantasies of Not. I want to stay home and make things lovely in a way that I never wanted to when the kid was small. It makes no sense because the teen has a house key, a transit card, and earbuds in most of the day, and hardly requires Mommy’s Loving Presence for long periods of time.
What would I even do, if not work? I already cook most nights, but I guess I could cook…more? Or more elaborately? I could exercise at off-peak hours? I could start and follow up on the dozens of home renovation projects on my list? I could nap properly every day, rather than just resting my eyes like a business woman?
Like I said, this is a very stupid fantasy for many reasons, and I can’t help but notice that in it I seem to have the same amount of income we’ve always had, to make the aforementioned home renovations and such. I WISH IT TO LEAVE MY HEAD. I WISH TO BECOME A PERFECT WORKER ROBOT UNTIL RETIREMENT OR DEATH (WHICHEVER COMES FIRST.)
Anyway. Look for me on Twitter for the next few weeks, where I am sure I will quickly become insufferable due to my love for insanely long place names like Eyjafjallajökull.
–mimi smartypants she don’t lie she don’t lie she don’t lie (cocaine).