ready to go.

It is Thursday, 2:47 p.m., before the Labor Day weekend.  I do not need to say this out loud, but it is apparent: I want a few days off.

I'm not off tomorrow.  I should have, but didn't.  Dumb.

I am off Monday. 

My family has driven me insane these last few weeks since returning from Ireland.  Generally there is a low-level of insanity going on, much like there is always a current in every calm lake. 

I want to go somewhere where my phone doesn't work.

The internet doesn't work.

The county sheriff has to track me down if absolutely necessary.

So I'm heading there, this weekend. 

Away, with some friends, to a small little island in the 10,000 islands of SW Florida.  There will be foods grilled, stories told, beverages of all sorts consumed and fish stalked.  It will be glorious. 

I will nap.  I will cook.  I will study for my GRE.  I will fish.  I will drink copious amounts of adult beverages. 

I will not answer the phone (it doesn't work there).  I will not answer email (there is no internet there).  I will not be in contact with anyone other than my hosts (because I don't have to).

Neener neener.