Sent packin'

When we fly to our destinations, we're concerned about things like carry-on size, our ability to tote a 300-pound wheeled upright onto the plane, and just who is going to be rifling through our underwear at the security checkpoints. We also have to wear clean socks because someone's going to want to look at the inside of our shoes. What a world.

Traveling by road has its advantages and trade-offs. We will need snacks because there won't be anyone in a crisp uniform asking if we want peanuts and a soda. Fewer limitations on baggage size and weight means we are suddenly tempted to pack everything we own. We will have to entertain ourselves, seeing as there aren't a bevy of passengers providing conversation or visual enlightenment as they pick their noses in the first-class cabin. The journey to our destination will be extended, so we must plan for additional fatigue not assoicated with air travel. There will be gas stations and possible truck stops – definite potty breaks and roadside diaper renewals for the Cutlet – which means nobody will want to see what's on the bottoms of our shoes at trip's end.

The open road beckons with its gray ribbon of promise, broken by yellow lines and what we hope is interesting scenery. It's about a 12-hour drive, according to a randomly reliable Internet mapping service. We'll split the trip across two days, seeing as it's already Saturday and I've got a few hours left to work. I will be in a blog-free zone, so miss me while I'm gone, OK? While you're playing desk jockey, or otherwise dealing with the routine, don't hate me while I'm on a Rocky Mountain high. I don't remember the last time I took an entire week off, but I think it was more than two years ago.

Upon our return, it never fails no matter which mode on which we've been traveling, there will be piles of laundry, things left undone because we are The Only Ones Who Will Do Them, and our own return to the routine. The Petite Filet learned last week that she got the job she was wanting, so at least her routine will be somewhat newish for a bit.

May you have a pleasant week, the same as I would wish you even if I was joining you in the humdrum of my normal life. This vacation had better be good.