"I tried to fight it for 2 days, but I eventually couldn't help myself, and I've fallen in love with my little house. It doesn't feel like some old lady's old house. It feels like mine. In the evening, after I get off from work, I take off my jacket, put on a sweater, and my slippers... the same slippers that were way too hot on my feet at home. I spend the evening trying to find something decent on TV, or finding something to organize. I go to bed underneath a big comfy goose down comforter. My sleep is uninterrupted." - January, 2004

In a few days, MW and I will be heading out for our vacation in... ever. Sure we have taken small jaunts and roadtrips, but this will be a proper take-time-off-work-and-have-a-budget-for vacation. I'm not sure what the itinerary includes, besides a two night stay at a Super 8 (ooooh, I know, we're fancy), and a detour to the lovely little village that I called home for one year.

In this village, I gradually fell in love with MW, from many miles away. It seemed like everyday I had to decide between my heart and my career. Eventually, my heart won out. But in the meantime, I had so, so many formative experiences. Sexy and I chose each other as inter-species life partners. I had many visits from many different friends, some whom I hadn't see in years. I had monsters under my bed (literally). I spent days without power in the blustery winter, using melted snow to flush my toilet. I had the local police fingerprint my little house. I had to give my own prints, which are probably still on file. I tried to get my license, and failed miserably. I learned so much about sexual health, and confirmed that this wasn't just a passing fancy, and I really did enjoy this type of work. I flooded my kitchen with a washing machine built in 1927. I had a standoff with the garbage company. I had threatening letters written to me. I learned that vodka is not a proper marinade for beef. I felt the painful question of "what if?".

Although I have visited there quickly since leaving, somehow, this trip feels different. It feels like, by going back there, I'm saying to myself "look, it all turned out great, no need to wonder anymore".

But, fuck it. I am.

First, watch dis.

It's true, isn't it? What the hell? I consider myself to be in a fairly progressive, equitable relationship, but I do admit to doing at least 65% or 70% of the dinner making. I never really noticed the absolute shameless of the market out there for women in regards to making meals for the 'family'. Not to mention that almost all the men in these adds are portrayed being barely able to wipe their own ass, nevermind making a meal that doesn't come on on a stick or has the word "instant" in the name.

Nearly ever woman I know works, but yet we are still expected to do the majority of the domestic activities. Even when male partners do pitch in, they tent to walk around with their chests puffed out thinking they have done us some sort of favour.

Thoughts?

It's Summertime, isn't it?

I suppose, like anything else, things will slow down a bit over the next month or two. Though, seeing as how it's mid-July... Summer won't last very much longer. I want to use that time to enjoy the lake and my family and chill a bit.

Tomorrow, after a month and a half of squatting, we will be officially closing on the townhouse, which is somewhat exciting. This means our first *gulp* mortgage payment will be coming out at the end of this month. We will then hopefully have a mini-vacation which will be nice - something we haven't really done in, oh, five years.

I hope everyone is having a great summer. Make sure to wear your sunblock.