auto-pilot

My mind is hundreds of miles away this week. Literally. I can't focus or get anything accomplished because in my mind I'm already basking in the warm Floridian sun on white sands next to a dead-sexy man (the most likely candidate being Hubby, of course) with every single person who knows me as "Ms Amber" 9+ hours away. My only concern for an entire week will be making sure I don't burn badly enough to scar like I did at Panama City beach in 2002. I have every intention of being a total beach bum from the time we get to Destin on Saturday until the moment we pack up to head home the following Sunday. Here's hoping the weather cooperates with my plans.

You know, it's not like there isn't plenty to keep me occupied until then. Laundry, packing, finding someone to check on the kitties. And since I don't want to come home from vacation to a disaster area, there's more than enough housework to keep me busy this week. And there's a plethora of activities at work, as well - finishing room decorations for the month, organizing lesson plans for the sub, preparing for post-vacation lessons, burning pics to CD for my class's families and finishing the scrapbooks of artwork the kids have done this school year.

But every time I start one of the many projects on my to do list, I end up daydreaming about how, this time next week, I'll be swimming with the dolphins (well, wading in the seaweed - I can't swim). Under 100 hours to go!