8 months and 21 until Memorial Day weekend. But who's counting?
After we packed up a summer's worth of stuff into our cars, I drove away from the cape with an extremely heavy heart. I hate when summer ends, and I was glad we had two cars last night because I was crying for most of the trip home. So was Baby Girl, though she could have cared less that we were leaving the cape for the summer. She was more interested in when I was going to get her out of the damn car! She hates the car at night.
Unfortunately, we are back to reality. I go back to work a week from today. We're going to Keene next weekend. No more beach trips, no more boat trips, no more Betsy's trips, no more pool days...
But, life goes on. The Patriots start in a week, apple scented candles will make their appearance soon in my house, skiing season is around the corner (I can't imagine I'll get out on the slopes too much, but I'm hoping for at least a day or two!), and how long a wait is 8 months and 21 days? It can't be that bad, can it?