When I met Tate twelve years ago I vividly recall him telling me that he was laid back. Of course now I know that this was a bald-faced lie. Laid back is exactly the opposite of how I’d describe him. His complaining and pessimism are legendary, so much so that while most couples fight about money or sex, we regularly fight about his constant complaining and pessimistic outlook on life.
He’s quit using phrases like, “this is a disaster!!”, because I’ve threatened to run away from home if I he ever uttered it again.
I’m by no means (completely) perfect, but I do try to look at the bright side of things. I try very hard not to complain too much, I try to stay positive. I’m practically Miss Merry Sunshine!
That’s why I feel so awful about what I’m getting ready to complain about.
My vacation could have been better.
It pains me to even utter those words. SERIOUSLY. Poor me! Me and my first world problems! ¡Que terrible! It must be so awful to get to go on vacation and have it not be perfect. So many people in the world without food and my beach vacation “could have been better.”
So yeah, I feel ridiculous complaining about my vacation. Nonetheless, I can’t help myself.
1. My children acted like total a-double-s-holes for the vast majority of the time. They freaked out over things like getting Sprite instead of chocolate milk when we went out to eat and having to ride on a horse drawn carriage through Savannah. What horribly deprived children! The constant need to correct their behavior ON VACATION where we were supposed to be having FUN completely drained me.
2. Ella and I got stung by jellyfish the very first day of vacation. We then learned that August is prime jellyfish season on Tybee Island and this year has been particularly bad. Perfect!
3. Our vacation rental wasn’t exactly what I thought it would be. The “summer house” with a bed in the backyard was really an unairconditioned shed with a cot from 1940 that held a moldy thing on top masquerading as a mattress.
4. Despite the beach house being advertised as “fully stocked,” we ran out of toilet paper less than 24 hours after arriving. (It REALLY pains me to complain about that, yet there it is.)
5. MOSQUITOES the size of Montana.
6. The sheets on our bed were satiny and stuck to our feet like velcro.
7. The water tasted like what I’ve always imagine dirty feet to taste like.
I’m so ashamed by these petty complaints. If I were a priest, I’d assign myself 4,000 Hail Mary’s and an order to volunteer my time at a homeless shelter or donate the equivalent cost of the vacation to a women’s shelter.
I’m no longer a practicing Catholic. I guess I dodged that bullet.
Instead, as soon as I download and edit the bajillion pictures I took while on vacation, I’ll repent by writing about the good things.