To go on vacation, or not to, is the question. One of the problems is the possibilities are not exactly black or white.

Stressful Vacations

Vacations are stressful, even if that's not what they are suppost to be. When you are in a strange place, it takes a while to get used to it. That seems to be especially true to me, I have a routine, and I really like doing things the familar way.

I guess you could question the value of a vacation, after all. You don't have those things we usually go to for comfort, like the local radio stations, your easy chair, and your way you want to do other things.

How do you conform, when you don't know the norms? When everybody there has an advantage to you. You are behind everyone else.

Pigs & People

And of course, in every vacation town, there are police, and more police. Just waiting to harrass you, and make your vacation horrible. Don't forget the crowds. Lots and lots of people on the beaches, and lots of annonying shops.

You tell me, that's vacation, exposing your self to possible rape, being lost in the crowds? Lots of crazy traffic, and sitting in cars for hours. Poping quarters in the stupid parking meters, to make some silly village rich?

Escape the Big Bad Grown-up World

I guess the real reason why adults like going on vacation, is so they can pretend they aren't in the real world. But that logic seems to be defeated by where they often go. Going to some fancy restort place or popular area, seems to defeat the concept of escaping—those areas have rules and regulations all over the place.

Do you want me to believe that this is a vacation, going into a land of law and order? If that is a vacation, then every day is a vacation in the life. Or maybe those people are full of shit (to say it nicely).

Or Maybe I Just Want to Stay Home

It might just be that I want to stay home, and way from this sheer insanity. That would make all to much sense. But some how I want to get away, if only to prove something (like I had a reason for forgetting about getting a job for the next few weeks), or I don't want to have do chores for 8 days.

Just think of all those fun things I'd have to do if I stayed home. Egg washing and putting in cartons comes to mind. Although eggs from the beginning of the week could be safely discard to the compost pile—I doubt they'd miss them. But getting up at 8 AM, to feed the animals might not be fun, nor carrying water out to the animals in the pooring rain. Or feeding those 'all-to-many' animals. Having to cook meals and wash dishes for myself. Bleh.

But staying home has many advantages. Total control of everything in the house for a week. I could stay up late, listening to Peter, Paul and Mary's See What Tommorow Brings or maybe Crosby, Stills and Nash—that is loud, and of course on nice vinyl. Having exactly what I want to eat, when I want to eat it. Be able to burn whatever garbage I produce (control, and something I can't do when my parents around), bondfires, quiet, real quiet, time to think, hiking, and almost anything I want.

Having to make this choice is a bit difficult. But I have no choice but to make it. I guess as they say—damned if you, damned if you don't. I'll figure it out—as it looks now, I'll be going.