It's the middle of the week and I'm so glad. I keep trying to have a picture of next Monday's big paycheck in my mind every morning when the alarm goes off and in the afternoon when I feel tired and want a nap, but it's hard when you're as spoiled with days off as I am. I've gotten a lot of scarf done and audio book listened to so far this week, and I'm taking my sock with me today so that'll get some knitting time. Maybe I'll watch a video instead of listening to the Walkman. It's getting colder at night and dawn comes later and later these days. You know what that means, right? Winter's coming and it's not dawdling. Yeesh. Time sure flies.
October 19--Anguilla. "Dere's a beach for every day of the mont', wit' a few to spare," said the taxi driver as he pulled away from the curb. Well, not curb exactly but the apron of concrete in front of baggage claim sort of petered out, faded into the road where the taxis lined up when flights arrived. "You fly far today?" he said over his shoulder as he swerved around a blind corner in the gathering dark. Our flight had been late so it was really too dark to see much of the island. There were a few pockets of lights, villages I presumed, and then the road dropped out from under us and the cab hurtled downhill and around a sharp corner to coast down a narrow lane between houses and restaurants. A lone streetlight illuminated a featureless cement block building, "the new police station," and a stretch of beach just before the taxi stopped in front of a welcoming arch of orange bougainvillea. "Here you are, missus, Sydan's." We rolled our suitcases down the brick walkway to our studio after the owner, Anne greeted us. She said, "Why don't you wash up and take a walk on the beach? We can do the paperwork and payments tomorrow. You must be tired, morning is soon enough." Don smiled at me after she left. "We've gone to paradise." I was so tired all I could do was nod.
It was a lovely vacation. I wish we were there right now, or even just me. Have a day.