What’s the difference between my couch at home and my couch on vacation?
One has been repeatedly decimated by a huge Mike Meteor and the other one soon will be.
That’s because I’m important. I am a couch-commander.
I used to be big on the typical vacation stuff that most people enjoy. Coconut-flavored tanning oil. Sand. Sun. Heat.
Now, as commander, those things are beneath me.
In all honesty, with all my responsibilities as the top sofa sailor, I don’t even know how or why I take the time to go on vacation anymore.
It’s not like I still sprint to take walks on the beach or spike volleyballs with the neighbors in the condo next door while I’m down there. And I’ve never looked forward to playing that beach pastime where two people awkwardly try to hit a rock-hard ball back and forth into the wind with crummy paddles (even if their were rules for this hoot of a game – let’s call it “Purgatory” – and some sort of scoring format, I still wouldn’t play. But if there were, I probably wouldn’t ban it once I became President). I don’t spend hours like in the past collecting sea-shells or building sand castles. I stopped sending two dozen postcards to friends and family (unless there’s a really large woman in a bikini on the front). These days I don’t care about being able to buy fireworks or eat at a seafood buffet (hence last week’s column). Swimming in the ocean with jellyfish – I’m sure it’s fun. Maybe next time.
But I’ll admit, its somewhat enjoyable to be surrounded by all the people who do enjoy their temporary beach home.
For me, vacation happens to be the one time of year where I can stretch out on the love seat and not criticize everything I see or feel responsible for telling the world how to solve all its problems. At home I have to have all the answers – with armrests at either end and a TV tray out in front. On vacation, I can relax and let all you underlings take the reins for a while.
People ask, “why not do something on vacation that you can’t do at home?”
It’s hard to explain to the lay-person (no pun intended) that taking a break from running the world in a horizontal position isn’t as easy as it sounds. My natural instinct once I kick-up my feet and turn on the tube is to explain why everything is so stupid, and how I – if not tied to the couch – would do things differently.
If you are reading this and everything seems to be falling apart in the world, it’s because I’m actually on vacation. Don’t worry, I’ll be back Monday.