Nothing. Nothing that I wanted to do.
It seemed like any time I wanted to do something, life or the fucking weather got in the way.
Sunday, Lisa wasn't feeling well, so I dealt with that.
I've been taking care of my in-law's yard on Tuesdays while they were on vacation in California for the past month visiting their other daughter and grandchildren, so Monday I loaded up my mower and lawn equipment onto my trailer and made the 80 mile round trip to take care of that because it looked like it was going to rain on my regular day.
Tuesday, it didn't rain after all, so I knocked my property out, mowing and weedeating. We're talking about 6 hours here.
Wednesday was my birthday and the only thing I wanted was to be left alone so I could nap and read, and naturally Lisa's granddaughter called and wanted to come by for a visit. I couldn't deny Lisa that seeing as her granddaughter's parents have zero interest in keeping a relationship going between Lisa and the grandkids - they refuse to drive them out here and Lisa's back won't allow her to make the hour and a half trip out, so it's been a year since Lisa's seen the kids. I don't care for their mother and stepdad much because of that.
Liz, the other grandmother, was gracious enough to drive her out. I've always gotten along real well with Liz, and it's been more than a year since I've seen her because she's been dealing with her own health issues. We had a really nice visit all the way around.
My in-laws picked this week to come back, so Thursday I drove back out to Portland to touch up their lawn. I didn't want my father-in-law to feel like he had to get out and do yardwork right away after driving for 3 solid days. He's 80 years old, for Pete's sake. They got in later that evening.
Friday, I drove back to Portland so Lisa could visit with her parents for the first time in a month.
Saturday, back to Portland again after Lisa's sister-in-law invited us over for a family dinner.
Sunday, I decided fuck it, I'm not getting dressed or even out of my easy chair. If the fucking house caught fire, the fire department was just going to have to work around me.
The only fucking thing I did do that I'd been thinking about was to screw up the courage to go down and get a haircut and a beard trim. I figured it was time to dump the ex-convict look and go for the Civil War general look, and I think I was successful at that.
This is only the 3rd time I've cut it this short since I got out of the army 40 years ago this month - the first time was back in the late 1980s after I burned it off when a carburetor backfired as I was working on the truck and the second time was for my parent's 50th wedding anniversary in 2007.
So yeah, that was my so-called vacation - no day trips, no fishing, no dump runs, no nothing.
But at least I look all respectable and shit, though.
