So I’m walking with my bestie, who tells me her husband has a conference coming up.
In Orlando. In July.
And he wants her to bring their three kids down to hang out and do the Disney thing.
In Orlando. In July.
And she looks at me. And I look at her, and I ask,
“In Orlando? In July?”
And she nods.
And then I tell her,
“You know what will happen, right? He’ll be in his conference, and you’ll be dragging your three kids through Disney World.
In Orlando. In July.”
And she nods again.
And because I’m trying to curb my buttinsky tendencies (at least on every other Thursday in months that end in “Y”) I shut up about
Orlando. In July.

Will she go? I don’t know. Stay tuned…
…until August.

Have you ever been on a vacation that ended up not being a vacation? I’ve had diarrhea in Mexico. I’ve seen meltdowns in national parks. I’ve lost luggage, and gotten lost myself. And yet I still love to travel, and will put all my spare pennies to seeing the world.
Except, I don’t need to see Orlando in July.