Well, it's 80 degrees out, sunny, breezy, beautiful start of summer day.
I SHOULD be perusing real estate, visiting condos and town homes, on the phone with the mortgage company. Instead of doing that, I'm packing up to go to the beach. That's right. We need a place to live by Tuesday, and I am mini-vaykaying to the beach until Monday. I really should stay in this land locked city and remain pasty pale so we can have a beautiful townhome, but the beach is calling my name. I can hear it from here.
At a moment like this, I can't help but wonder - What Would Jimmy Buffet Do?
He would most definately say Fuck real estate, i'll be here when I get back, and head to the beach, fishing pole in trunk, to drink beer and eat cheeseburgers, toes deep in the sand, just to feel the summer sun making the first pinchy sunburn on his shoulders.
And what's good enough for Jimmy is good enough for me.