I’ve been so wound up in work and other crap that I need to escape for a while…and I get to next month. But I was thinking…I’m not very good at letting go of the rope. I am what you call a control freak. I always have to be in control. Although, I do have my Peter Gibbons moments…there is such joy in doing nothing.
But I can do nothing at home.
I’m going to Las Vegas. I need to, as one of my friends put it, let my freak flag fly. I honestly have no idea what that means…for all I know it might be sticky. I’m not a big fan of sticky.
Then again, if I drink enough alcohol, my discomfort threshold increases. Of course, the trick is to achieve the perfect alcohol equilibrium. I don’t want to be puking on a video poker machine. I also don’t want to wake up to a runaway chicken in my hotel room. Germy!