It's been a lovely weekend. Best weekend in months. We visited my parents and grandmother for my dad's and grandmother's birthday weekend. We checked out a wine festival, took a motorcycle ride, visited Blue Bird Gap Farm, had birthday dinner, roasted birthday oysters, had birthday breakfast, picked up two different counter tops from two different discount home centers, took a hay ride, and got our Halloween pumpkins. That was in less than seventy two hours. There was also a half a day of work in there, for Deanna and myself, and the fielding of work phone calls for the duration of the trip. We also took Quinn worm digging and fishing for the first time.
Suffice it to say, we vacation like it's our job. We even joked that it was good that we got all the family stuff in in one weekend, so I could get back to the business of building our house in every free moment. Now I know I brought this on myself. And I'm not complaining. Really, it feels normal. But I know it's not. Ironically the whole time I'm convincing myself that as soon as the house is finished, I'll begin my life of leisure. Gardening, surfing, riding, exercising, reading, you know.
I'm afraid this level of production is becoming addictive. Returning to some balance will be like kicking a habit.
Just an observation.
