In which the author takes a vacation

I was talking to my brother recently and described the busyness of my life as an endless Tetris game.

Like when the levels start to get higher and the shapes are flying at you and you have no time to think or plan or savor the moment, you just constantly react, react, react.

So we took advantage of the built-in babysitters yesterday and left town.

We ignored the fact that I'm sick (as always), that we have a child's birthday party in three days, that we have a million things to do. Just left town and went to a little cabin by the seaside.

It was like stepping through a transporter and finding yourself on a tropical vacation. But it's only for one night and it's not hot.

But oh, the ocean. You forget that it's awesome and then you stand and look at it and remember every childhood trip and the importance of shiny rocks and how restful it is to just sit and stare at something sometimes.

I still can't believe that I live about six blocks from the sea or that we can get to a place like this so quickly.

Score one for Nova Scotia.

White Point Resort:
You could listen to the waves while lying in bed:
Come walk on me ...
This is what relaxed looks like:

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