Last Holiday, Sans Peanut, Days 20 to 24
Last early morning, last morning to make art, for awhile. Then we make the rounds up the shore, saying goodbye to people. Last day in the ocean, which is deliciously warm.
Cleaning, packing. I spend a few hours with a vacuum held aloft in one hand, the hose/wand in the other, climbing up furniture, vacuuming a million corners and crannies. The corpses of flies are legion.
In the afternoon I have a nap. The weather turns to shit. Then a bunch of us go off to Sackville for some dinner theatre which I had originally passed on but then C did her Amway trick**, and the play turned out to be very good -- The Show He Never Gave, about a New Year's Day performance that Hank Williams never made it to, because he died in the back seat of a car instead. It comes back in the middle of September.
The drive home -- five of us in the car, pounding rain, the windows fogging up, waiting for a moose to step out in front of us -- is awful. Once we get home the storm really kicks into gear, and it's so loud on the roof that neither one of us gets any sleep. No problem, I only have to drive for eight hours in the morning.
**The Amway Trick: C asks me if I want to, say, go to a jazz concert. I say no thankyou. Later, we'll be around some friends, and they'll say, Aren't you going to concert? It'll be so fun! and C will say, I don't know why we're not going, why aren't we going, why can't we go, my husband never lets me do anything, and everyone will make a face, and we'll end up going. It's the same trick that Amway organizers use when they single out the mark from the crowd and say, Wouldn't you like to make more money, Darryl?
Days 22 + 23
Abysmal. Quebec is a giant construction zone in the middle of a rainstorm. On Day 24 the car starts to shimmy at low speeds, which means I've hit one pothole too many and it needs a wheel alignment. I'd rather set it on fire. We get home at around 6 on a Sunday night and immediately start doing chores. Did I mention I was on vacation?