Tasks: three

I suck at vacations. They always turn out lousy in a funny-to-you-but-not-to-me sort of way. I'm the guy who will get that wonderful, free cabin that's got a problem with bats and no running water. I take beach vacations where the few good times are poisoned by the sort of continuous child meltdowns that make young married couples tear up adoption papers --and I fucking outright hate spending more than a single night at a campground.

Camping in a campground just isn't fun for me after one night. Camping, to me, is something you do as a supplement to something else --like hiking or I suppose hunting (which I don't do) or boating. Otherwise, it's not much different than hanging around a motel room, a big motel room, but a motel room with no heat, no air conditioning, no cable, suspicious water and very little privacy.

Staycations don't work either. I try that and I end up going into work.

But this year, I take a vacation. I don't know how. I don't know where, but it's got to happen.