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Broke Wife, Big City
“Slummering” in
Maine
By Aprill Brandon
Guys, I don’t want to alienate any of my readers, but I can officially
say that I now “summer in Maine” like the rich people do. So please no
longer make direct eye contact when addressing me, peasants.
Ok, ok, busted. We’ll actually be slumming it in a small motel by the
beach for barely three days, so technically I guess you could say we’ll
be “slummering in Maine.” But you can bet your ass we’ll be drinking
our boxed wine with our pinkies up as we converse in our best haughty
country club accent (you know, where you say elitist things without
moving your lower jaw and laugh like a creaky door).
And a vacation is a vacation is a vacation. No matter where or for how
long. The only thing that matters is that you spend the whole time
posting enough selfies that all 933 of your Facebook friends are super
annoyed.
Of course, before any vacation comes pre-vacation prep. And this
horrible ritual almost makes going anywhere not worth it. This is
doubly true when you are traveling with children. Because children need
a lot of things. And whatever they don’t need, they WANT or they will
just DIE. In fact, it might actually be easier to just detach their
entire room from the house and drag it with you.
And packing all their ridiculous stuff is just the beginning. For
example, we happen to be leaving tomorrow so here is my To-Do List for
today:
Write newspaper column. About something funny. Or just be lazy and
shoot off 700 words about your To-Do List.
Buy jean-wearing, Converse sneaker sporting, flannel shirt obsessed
husband swim trunks and his first pair of shorts ever and shoes that
don’t require socks.*
*Also remember to wrestle black socks away from husband when he tries
to sneak them into suitcase. Use as much force as is necessary,
including frying pan head whacking.
Clean house for dog-sitter, a lovely young lady we blackmailed to watch
our neurotic dog. And I mean, really clean. Like scrub the toilet and
tell the hobo who lives in the southwest corner of the kitchen he needs
to vacate for a few days level of clean.
Clean out the car trunk, which still contains (among many other
fascinating artifacts from our life) a box of severely molded party
favors from our wedding.
Charge camera batteries.
Find battery charger.
Find the camera the batteries belong to.
Pack.
Go to store and buy enough snacks to feed multiple pee-wee football
teams even though there are only three of us (and one is a toddler) and
we’ll only be gone 2.5 days and the place we’re going to is only an
hour and a half away and has literally dozens of stores and restaurants
within walking distance but no matter because we still need an entire
cooler-full of all these snacks because it’s not really a vacation
without six economy-sized bags of Bugles although no one really knows
why other than that’s the way our parents did it and their parents
before them and who are we to question the tradition of the Great
America Beach Vacation.*
*Also buy more snacks at gas station on the way out of town. Just in
case.
Find passport because I just realized my license expired. Which you
wouldn’t think would be a big deal since I’m not the one driving and
I’m 34-years-old and have the bags under my eyes to prove it. But you’d
be wrong. Because, funny story, this whole traveling without a valid
I.D. thing also happened five years ago because I’m an idiot and keep
assuming licenses are valid forever. But you know who doesn’t think
it’s a funny story? Bartenders and car rental associates and the T.S.A.
and hotel managers and that blonde lady cop.
Shave. Ugh. Shave it all.
Go to liquor store and purchase reasonable amount of booze since the
aforementioned toddler will be passed out by eight, essentially
chaining Mommy and Daddy to the confines of the motel room. Plus, we’ll
need something to wash down those 56 packages of peanut butter crackers
we brought.
The good news is that if I survive today, it’s nothing but sand, sun
and surf for the foreseeable future.
Minus those predicted thunderstorms.
Can’t get enough of Aprill? Can’t wait until next week?
Check out her website at http://aprillbrandon.com/
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