I’m back from vacation and bracing myself for the return to school and all the activity that entails. It’s almost enough to make me console myself with a glass of wine or a last of the summer margarita, except, I’m really tired of drinking. I seriously don’t know how people drink every day or even just multiple times a week. It is just not my thing.
There were 3 adults in our beach house and I brought 2 bottles of rosé, a bottle of white, 2 bottles of red and an additional magnum of red. There was also a honking big bottle of tequila, some gin and a little vodka in the mix. Is that excessive for a week? Before you answer, let me tell you what I brought back home – the magnum, 1 bottle of white, 1 bottle of rosé and a half bottle of red that I just couldn’t part with. It was a Turley! The vodka went quickly in about 4 Moscow Mules, I don’t drink gin and there was 2/3 of the tequila left. Now – do you think that is a lot of booze consumed?
While you consider that question, let me tell you about my drive home from the Cape. First, you should know that I despise driving on the Mass Pike. I may be exaggerating but, I swear, every single time I drive on the damn Pike it rains – and I hate driving in the rain. The only thing I hate more than driving in the rain, is driving in the dark in the rain. Until last Sunday, that is.
During our vacation in Wellfleet my car started acting up, stalling at weird random times. It happened three times over a couple of days with no real pattern. Each time, I coasted to the shoulder, put the car in park and then restarted it with no real issues. I attempted to get it into a local garage, but was thwarted by the holiday weekend. After talking to my mechanic in Albany, who suspected a problem with the fuel thingamabob, I felt prepared to attempt the trip home – or so I thought.
The drive home was hellacious. It rained, naturally, and there was moderate traffic. My sweet Volvo crapped out three times over the course of 260 miles, including once on a bridge. I was reasonably certain that the car would restart, but those few minutes on the side of the road were incredibly stressful. Cars were traveling so fast, visibility was so poor and I was afraid that we would be rear ended. By the time I made it home my hands hurt from clenching the steering wheel. It was all I could to do to unpack the car and climb into the tub. With a glass of wine.
*No, not at the same time. I don’t do that.