I leave for vacation in less than a week. Bright and early (very early) on Tuesday morning I will be driving to the airport for my flight and six days in California. I am beyond simple excitement. At this point the reasons why should be obvious.
The first two days will be with a couple that I have never met before. I have followed their blog for years and starting chatting with them on twitter in the last several months. This poly pair is lovely and I am thrilled that they are willing to host me for a few days. The gentleman and I have had numerous twitter exchanges and I have been shocked at how much we have in common. We even have the same birthday. Our flirting, fantasies, and mutual masturbation sessions have only increased my excitement for next week.
Also, after I leave my sure to be new lovers/friends, I am taking a train down to visit my cousin for a few days in Los Angeles. She attempted suicide this spring and our family has been trying to visit her as often as possible. I was determined to make the money work so I could go and spend a few days when she was off work. We always have a good time and our six-year age difference is nothing. We are planning to get matching tattoos while I am there and she is going to show me around the city. She has been good about talking. Sir and I have both shared our experiences and continuing battles with depression, which I think have helped.
In any case, next week should be an amazing experience as my first trip to the west coast, my first vacation as a mom without my kids, and probably several sexual firsts. This has, surprisingly, started to have a negative effect though. I am so excited I just want to be there. Work is boring and dull. The boys drive me crazy with great speed. I’m not sleeping that well (though I’m not positive that’s connected).
I started a packing list last night to try and calm myself down. It didn’t really work. I’m afraid if I get the suitcase and start to pack it that I’ll just drive up to the airport tomorrow morning rather than going to work and just go.
That sounds so horrible. What kind of sub/wife/mother does that make me? I think it’s just the craving for the chance to read my book. And the hot sex (though I thought it was obvious).