Before I crashed and burned, I was planning on taking a summer semester of courses. Now, I’m looking forward to having the summer off, though that’s something of a misnomer.
Sure, I’ll have the summer off from school, but not from:
- Taking care of my children,
- Making a living,
- Finishing my memoir,
- Building up my platform,
- (Hopefully) preparing my memoir for publication,
- (Maybe even) publishing my memoir this fall.
So, it’s not like a vacation. Of course, my last vacation culminated with Willy’s diagnosis of epilepsy, so I’m not really sure vacations are my thing.
I did get some time away recently. I flew down to Texas, drove up through Oklahoma, Missouri, Illinois, and back into Wisconsin. This wasn’t a vacation either. My grandfather passed away and my mom inherited his car, which is in MUCH better shape than hers. We didn’t linger anywhere, because I had to get home to my family, but it was a road trip.
Still, between seeing the rheumatologist today, getting a treatment plan in place, tweaking my medication, and taking it relatively easy, I should be able to get through the summer and then through my fall semester without any sudden losses of altitude. For the moment, however, my airplane metaphor is still under repairs.