Today is laundry day, so what better thing to do than write a few blog posts.
I arrived in Shanghai on Wednesday last week. The flight was a bit rough but ultimately uneventful. It was bittersweet to say goodbye to Xi’an, but other adventures were calling my name.
To save some cash and get a sense of the city I opted to take the No. 2 Metro line from the airport to a station close to my hostel. Fortunately signage was both in English and in Chinese which made purchasing a ticket (4 Yuan, or about 69 cents Canadian) and making my way to my destination rather simple. At least in theory. In practice I failed to consider my own stupidity and exhaustion. After falling asleep on the subway, I woke to find I’d missed my first stop and had returned almost all the way to the airport. Feeling like a twit, I quickly corrected the situation and was back on my way to my home away from home for the week.
After checking in, I decided to saunter around the neighbourhood. Within about 5 minutes I stumbled into Andy whom I’d met in Xi’an the week before. Having been here for a few days already he gave me the lay of the land, and then we went in search of food.
Since then, I’ve hung out with him and several other travellers – the Brits Laura, Chloe, Sam, and Hugh, the Aussie student-couple Andrew and Sassica, and the Americans Jack, Ben, and Lauren. Various subsets of us have opted to explore the local pubs and clubs together, and that of course has led to some rather late nights/early mornings. From the dark and dingy yet strangely inviting and friendly C-club, to the overpriced but entertaining Cheers, to the posh techno shoulder-to-shoulder deafening thump-thump and visual assault that was M18 and Myst, and to the not-so-crowded, not-so-loud techno thump-thump and free booze of SoHo, we’ve pretty much been all over the place.
Between bar-hopping, I’ve managed to make my way to the financial district – where fellow professor Chris and I celebrated with a scotch on the 87th floor overlooking the nightlife of Shanghai – to the Bund, and to the major shopping district of Nanjing Road. I’ve been amazed by the contrast between old colonial buildings and the new modern flash of skyscrapers. The street BBQs have turned into a staple after-bar snack. I’ve snapped my pic with an M&M dressed as a panda, I’ve enjoyed fresh coconut water and probably too many dumplings, and I have been entertained by the various Chinese to English translations that I’ve read. The people, as in Xi’an, are exceptionally hospitable and welcoming.
In short, this city is vibrant and amazing and has so much to offer, I think I might just be in love with it.
While I’ve technically be in Shanghai for 5 days already, I’ve been out having too much fun to sit down and write. I figured that I probably should write a little bit about my experiences today before I find myself looking at the city from my seat on a bullet train to Beijing.
Before I get into my adventures in Shanghai, I thought I’d offer up a huge thanks to Xi’an and the people who call that city home. Xi’an was amazing. So much so that I extended my stay a few days so that Peter and I could conquer a mountain. There was seriously so much to do in that city, and I can definitely see myself returning there in the future. Exploring the Bell and Drum towers, eating my face off in the Muslim District, cycling the walls of the old city, and visiting the Terra Cotta Warriors were all highlights of the trip. My adventure to the top of Huashan and subsequent plank walk were icing on the proverbial cake.
But it wasn’t all site-seeing and history. The city also connected me with some amazing people with equally amazing travel stories – some profound, others hilarious, all fascinating. There were nights spent sitting in the streets with locals and two students from France, drinking beer until the early hours of the morning, and other nights wandering the city with no particular goal in mind.
On one particular eve, Peter and I found ourselves looking at the almost-full moon through a massive telescope that someone had set up near the Drum Tower. We also found ourselves sitting and staring at the Drum Tower, amazed at its simplicity and beauty, amazed of where we were and how we got there, all while listening to a local musician play what we assumed was traditional Chinese music. It had all the makings for a cheesy romantic date-scene in some equally cheesy romantic movie – but all that was quickly shattered when we realized the musician had switched into Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On. Obviously laughter ensued.
I’m definitely going to miss Xi’an. And I’m definitely going to miss the band of misfits that I got to call friends for a short period of time. With any luck, I’ll meet up with some of them again on some random adventure in some random city in the future. If travel has taught me anything, it’s that the world is a rather small place, and stranger things have happened.
Monday marked the day after my adventure with Peter biking around the city walls of Xi’an. Much of the day was spent figuring out the next legs of our respective adventures. At one point I was going to join him on his journey to Chengdu, but that opportunity seemed to flit away as soon as we realized that the buses, trains, and planes were all full – save for a few late night options.
We also were beginning to wonder how we were going to fit in Huashan – the epic mountain climb I had mentioned in previous posts – given the remaining options available to get Peter to Chengdu to see his friends.
We decided that Huashan would have to be a night climb. This way we’d be able to meet all of our schedules and take part in a very unique experience.
Figuring out how to get to Huashan was our first challenge. Trains were booked. Buses were booked. Renting a car would be too pricey. Everything was working against us. That is, until the opportunity for two standing only tickets were made available. We rushed to the train station with all of our hiking gear to purchase our tickets, only to find out that the train was indeed full. Fortunately for us, the ticket agent offered us two first class tickets on the high speed train. We gladly purchased these and were on our way – sometimes reaching speeds of almost 300kph.
As we raced towards the mountain, we chatted about the coming adventure. Specifically, we discussed the fact that we really didn’t know how to get from the North Huashan train station to the mountain, and the fact that our conversational Chinese was limited to saying hello, thank you, or asking for the bill, and the fact that we didn’t know how we were going to get back to Xi’an the next day. We probably should have been nervous, but what’s an adventure without a bunch of unknowns coupled with poor communication skills?
As we exited the train station, we were greeted by a very lively scene; people snapping whips (seriously), and a very large number of taxi drivers fighting to take us to the mountain for insanely inflated prices.
And then we met Gavin.
Gavin, from the US, had also decided to hike the mountain. Like us, he also wasn’t fully prepared for what was about to happen, but in a different way. While we had no idea how we were going to get to the mountain and home, or how to communicate with the locals, he had no idea what the hike involved or what equipment he might need.
Fortunately between the group of us we somehow formed a kick-ass team.
Gavin organized the taxi and got us to the mountain. Peter and I helped get Gavin up the mountain. It was a win-win situation.
After buying a twelve pack of beer (because why wouldn’t we want a twelve pack of beer for hiking a mountain?), and purchasing our entrance to the park, we started on our big adventure. The time was about 10pm and the way was lit only by the moon and the headlamps people were wearing.
The trek started simple enough – along what is known as the Soldier’s Road. The incline was gentle and the path was composed of a very well constructed set of stairs; stairs that went on. And on. And on. And on. And got steeper, and steeper. Oh, and steeper.
We weren’t alone on the trek. It seemed that thousands of locals were making the trek with us. Up and up we hiked. We stopped from time to time to catch our breath and give our legs a rest, and to enjoy a beer. We commented on the variety of people making the hike – some looked early on as if they weren’t going to make it, others looked strong and determined. Our collective goal – the east summit, where we’d be able to watch the sun rise around 5:30am.
In some sections the stairs were narrow – very narrow. In some sections the stairs were only big enough to put less than half your foot on. And in some sections the stairs were so steep (80% incline) they looked more like a wall with notches carved into it. And yet still we hiked, higher and higher up the mountain and into the night.
Eventually we found ourselves face to face with the steepest section. Imagine if you will a wall that leans out slightly towards you. Imagine three chains hanging down from above – setting up two lanes for potential climbers. Imagine stairs that are about 1 inch deep. And imagine people attempting to climb them, freaking out, and having to climb back down while others attempted to climb up. It was a bit chaotic. It was a bit insane. It. Was. Amazing.
Of course, it wasn’t necessary to take this route. There was a way to bypass it – and many people did. We talked about it, but I knew immediately that I was doing it. I hadn’t come all that way to wuss out. Peter and Gavin felt the same way. We were going to crush this.
As I approached the wall I simply took a breath, got my footing, grabbed the chains and started my ascent. I looked down, often, because why wouldn’t I? With each step closer to the top, I smiled more and more. With each step I took a moment and thought out my next move, then confidently made it. And it felt amazing. I fully expected some fear, but there was none. There was just an awesome sense of crushing the challenge.
And just like that we were past the wall and heading the rest of the way to the peak.
After about 4.5 hours we reached the eastern peak. The moonlight provided enough light to see that the valley below was expansive and incredible. The sky was huge and decorated with countless stars. It was an amazing moment and it was great to share it with both Peter and Gavin. We sat there, smiling, taking in everything, and celebrated with a couple beers.
We spent several hours chatting and napping on the mountain as we waited for the sun to rise. At some point I just sat there listening to the sounds of nature, and marvelling again at how lucky I am to be able to experience something like this.
I ventured to Toronto on Monday to get my visa. I won’t lie, I was giddy with excitement as I handed over all of the necessary items – completed application, one passport sized photo, and an official letter of invite from Dalian Nationalities University – to the very friendly woman who was working behind the counter.
On Friday I’ll be returning to Toronto to pick up said visa – bringing Phase I of Operation China Adventure to a close. In case you were wondering, Operation China Adventure is what I’m officially calling my trip.
Before I leave, however, I have a few tasks to complete (what I’m calling Phase II of Operation China Adventure):
Organize all of my projects, and leave explicit instructions and a set of deliverables for all of my students, to ensure that my return is stress-free.
Organize dates for Elliot. He gets lonely when I’m not around.
Organize the house-sitters. Identify the comfiest spots in my condo for a nap.
Figure out how to post to the Twitters and the Facebook while I’m away. I’ve learned that both of these sites are blocked in China. Fortunately, the Instagrams are not. At least, not yet.
Finish designing course materials that I will be presenting while in China.
Set up meetings with students and colleagues while I’m gone.
Finish up all of the reports, grants, papers, and other deliverables that need to be completed.
No big deal. I’ve still got three working days to get it all done.
Anyway, the bottom line is that I’m stoked. I haven’t had an adventure like this in ages, and it’s making concentration rather difficult. For example, while I should be working on any of the things listed above, I find myself watching this over and over.
With a -30 something wind chill this eve, my walk home from the office was a bit of a chore. With every gust of wind I shivered and cringed and tried to ignore how painfully cold the exposed bits of my face were. I also tried not to curse Mother Nature whenever she decided to blow snow – which felt like tiny frozen razor blades – at said exposed bits.
It’s usually around this point in the year when I begin to lose my patience with all things winter. My walks to and from the office become a little less the air is so crisp and clean and the snow is beautiful and it’s all so wonderful and magical, and a lot more holy fricking shitcakes, I’m going to punch the next snowman I see in his stupid, stupid neck.
Fortunately winter hasn’t completely destroyed my spirit, which means any snowman I meet is safe – for now.
The thing I find ultimately weird is how easy it is for me to run in weather like this. It’s almost like some bizarre badge that I wear, and one that I wear proudly. Just yesterday I ran in similar weather for 30 minutes, through snow drifts and crazy-stupid cold wind. A few days before that I returned home with my eyelashes and eyebrows encased in ice. In both cases I ended my runs feeling like I’d just conquered a small country, and loving that I was able to take on winter. Today, however, I spend 25 minutes walking home and I want to assault a snowman and then collapse into a defeated quivering pile.
I think the solution to my bi-polar1 response to winter is that I leave all of my work at the office. My non-homework laden self would then be able to run to the office in the morning, and home in the evening – filling me with conquering winter pride instead of murderous snowman rage.
Or, another solution might be a wee vacation somewhere warm and tropical and filled with servants who bring me coconut based drinks.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some travel websites to peruse.
While my friends Beth and Rick were in town over the Christmas holidays, we spent some time chatting about travel (as we are wont to do). Both Beth and Rick have been on some pretty fantastic adventures over the past year (for example, read about their awesome but separate trips to Ireland here, and here1), and it’s always great to hear about travel related shenanigans.
One of the interesting things to come out of the conversation wasn’t exactly expected. We were chatting about off-continent trips, and I began to wonder when last I launched myself through the air in a people-filled lawn dart3. For someone who loves travel as I do, I was actually shocked by the realization. My last trip off-continent was back in the old-time-y days of 2011 when Rick and I adventured our asses off in Hawaii4, 5. The year before that also saw me in Europe twice – once for Christmas with my brother, and once to celebrate the successful completion of my PhD.
Clearly this close-minded North Amerocentric travel practice can not be permitted to continue. It’s just not right. Think of all of the cultures that I’m not learning about. Think of all of the shenanigans I’m not getting up to. Think of all the adventures that aren’t being adventured. It’s a travesty I say.
Fortunately I have a few plans up my sleeve. One involves Asia, the other involves a return to Europe. Both could occur sometime during the summer. In the former case I’m looking at a potential exchange program that would allow me to bookend a two-week teaching/researching adventure with shenanigan filled adventuring. In the latter case I’m looking at several conferences that are separated by a few weeks.
In any case, it’s very clear that I haven’t been living up to my wanderlusting potential. This is something that I must correct in 2014.
1 Also, why haven’t I been to Ireland yet2?
2 Honestly, 2013 seemed to be the year that everyone I knew when to Ireland or Scotland. I may or may not be jealous.
3 Also known as an airplane.
4 While Hawaii is politically part of the United States, it’s actually in the region known as Oceania.
5 Which means that the three year anniversary of that particular trip is only a few weeks away. I should figure out a way to celebrate said adventure-filled vacation.
Today is the first day of the winter 2014 semester, or as I like to think of it – Reading Week bookended by class. Twelve weeks of class to be exact; six on either end.
I’m actually pretty excited to get back to work. Don’t get me wrong, working in the comfort of my pajamas is always better than trudging myself to the office, especially when that trudging involves ice and snow and howling wind. However, until I figure out a way to effectively lecture 70+ students in User Interface Design whilst sipping a coffee and enjoying my fireplace, my need to be on campus will remain. And if I’m being completely honest, I love teaching so trudging through the winter weather is very much worth the trouble.
Despite the fact that today is day one of a semester that still has that new-semester smell, I’ve been mulling over potential destination ideas for Reading Week. Apparently wanderlust never dies. Since it’s only a week-long, the destination can’t be too distant. As much as I’m crazy enough to fly somewhere (Japan for example) for a week, I’m going to save that type of travel for later in the year. I’m thinking I may keep myself confined to North or Central America.
Deciding on a location, however, is the second decision that needs to be made. The first decision is to figure out what type of vacation I want/need. That is, should I go with an adventure vacation (think hiking, mountain climbing, zorbing, skydiving, cliff jumping, bungee jumping, etc.) or a relaxation vacation (think well tanned hotties serving me drinks while I read/nap on the beach)? Or perhaps a blend?
So what do you think, dear readers? If you were vacationing over reading week, what type of vacation would you be taking?
Like many of you, I spent yesterday celebrating the Christmas holiday the way it was intended to be celebrated: with lots and lots of food. And booze. And more food. And coffee. Also scotch. And pie.
And because I’m a spoiled bastard, I did all of this while barely contributing much more than my presence to the Christmas celebrations. Personally, I think the Christmas day hosts got the short end of the stick. They prepped and cooked and cleaned and served and served some more; I was chauffeured around, delivered to and fro, stuffed full of treats and coffee, and I was fed and then fed some more.
Today my waistline feels as if it has expanded into territory it hasn’t seen since a hasty retreat several years ago. While the food was definitely worth it, I’m sure a case of buyer’s remorse is going to kick in soon enough. But that’s something to worry about another day. For now, I’m going to enjoy the quiet comfort of my home, and the wee fuzzball snoozing next to me.
I’m also going to spend the day with the very comforting knowledge that I have an amazing group of friends; people who invited me into their homes, treated me as family, and shared their holiday traditions with me. So thanks again Bang, Lindsay, and Henry for an awesome Christmas brunch. And thanks Mark and Julie for a fantastic Christmas feast. I’m so very fortunate that I have you nerds in my life.
For those who follow my Twitter account1, you’re likely already aware of the fact that I had a bit of an incident at the liquor store yesterday. Nothing crazy of course – I made no scene, there was no need for security to be called. Regardless, something happened; something that was a mix of amazing and surreal and ridiculous and hilarious.
I had sauntered over to the liquor store early yesterday to pick up certain key ingredients for the traditional Christmas morning mimosas. Surprisingly the store wasn’t very busy when I arrived, so I only had to wait in line behind one other person. I placed several2 bottles of Christmas cheer on the counter and pulled out my bank card.
Could I see some ID?
I was only slightly surprised to hear this. I’ve heard this request before and I’m sure I’ll hear it again because I realize that I look younger than my 38 years. Further, the staff of the liquor store are required by law to ID anyone that looks 25 or younger. The legal drinking age is actually 19, but the law is in place to honestly, I have no idea what the intended purpose is.
You might be asking, do I look younger than 19? Unless you are visually impaired, drunk, or high, I’m going to guess no. I’m not even convinced I look 25. However, the liquor store employee decided that she needed my ID.
I happily passed her the ID I’ve been using for the past 10 years.
I’m sorry, but this has expired.
I stared blankly back at her, not realizing what she was saying.
I can’t accept this. Do you have another piece of ID?
I didn’t. I told her so.
It was at this point that I realized what she was getting at.
It was at this point that I realized she wasn’t going to sell me the booze.
It was at this point that I realized that Christmas might be ruined.
I tried explaining that it was the same ID I’d always used. I never thought to reiterate the fact that I’m almost 40. I just kept staring at her assuming that my impressive powers of persuasion and my out-of-date ID would convince her that I was worthy of the bottles placed before her.
I clearly was not. Instead I had to pack it in, sad-faced, empty-handed, and convinced that Christmas was ruined. Denied at the liquor store at the tender young age of 38, because I apparently didn’t look old enough to pass as someone of the legal drinking age in this province.
But don’t worry folks – all was not lost. My little brother dropped by later to buy the necessary mimosa ingredients. That’s correct – my little brother bought me Christmas cheer because apparently I’m not old enough to buy my own.
Yesterday Rick, Aidan, and I jumped into the car and headed to Kananaskis country to face the challenge of climbing Mount Indefatigable (stopping first at Starbucks and Safeway for necessities like go-go juice, snacks, and lunch).
Approximately 1.5 hours from Calgary, Indefatigable actually represents two peaks and a ridge connecting the two. The southern peak is approximately 2556m (8386ft) above sea level, while the northern peak is slightly higher. According to this website, the peak reaches 2678m (8786ft) above sea level. Not the highest peak that Rick and I have ever done, but still a solid adventure.
The first half hour included a rather steep incline, and amazing views of the lakes surrounding the region. The weather was perfect – not too hot, not too cold – and the company was fantastic. The hike included a lot of laughter and chatting, and every few steps hooting and hollering. Why? Well, it turns out that we were hiking a decommissioned trail; decommissioned because it is home to several generations of grizzlies. The hoots and hollers were to warn them of our presence, and hopefully scare them off. The last thing we needed was to be eviscerated by a hungry grizzly.
Once we passed the tree line, we were greeted by the ridge that defined the Indefatigable trail. According to the experts, the trail from north to south would be tough, but we were determined to conquer it. There were a few sketchy areas that gave all of us pause – partially to figure out our footing and grip, partially to breathe, gather our thoughts, and quell the voices in our head that might have been screaming to turn around because holy shit why would we put ourselves into such a crazy situation? To put the climb into perspective, there were sections where, while not quite vertical, we were forced to hug the mountain for fear that the slightest slip would send us falling several hundred metres to the valley below. In fact, the major hazard described for this climb: falling to your death.
Talk about a rush.
Fortunately none of us fell to our death. And despite a few breath caught in our throat moments, we reached the north peak with only a few scratches and scrapes. Our reward – absolutely spectacular scenery. Honestly, the views were probably some of the best that I’ve ever seen from a mountain top.
After resting for a bit, we began our venture along the ridge from the north peak to the south peak. Walking at times on a path about a foot and a half wide, with very steep drops on either side was amazing. Strangely, we all felt quite comfortable traversing the ridge.
We reached the southern peak around 5:00pm. Tired, but still energized, we took some more photos, soaked in the scenery, and then began our descent. The trail here was steep at points, but well-defined and quite easy to hike. Along the way we ran in to some mountain goats who seemed to be enjoying the views of the valley from high above.
The entire trail took us about 8 hours, including several stops for snacks, lunch, and about 10 thousand photos.
Honestly, yesterday could have only been better if our friend Paul was able to join us.
Just over a year ago Rick and I began the Big Mountain Challenge to raise money for the Kidney Foundation of Canada. The adventure required that we hike several mountains, canoe Lake Louise, raise oodles of money, and spend a large portion of our time being spoiled rotten by the awesome folks at Chateau Lake Louise, the Banff Springs Hotel, and Banff Lake Louise Tourism. It’s a rough life, but someone has to do it.
To say that the adventure was one of the greatest experiences of my life would be an understatement.
On Wednesday night I flew into Calgary to meet up with Rick once again – this time with my brother Aidan in tow – to celebrate the anniversary of the Big Mountain Challenge.
Our adventure started yesterday. While Rick was at work, Aidan and I ventured to MEC (for some necessary equipment), and then to the Calgary Farmers’ Market (for some necessary donuts and other foodstuffs). After sufficiently stuffing our gullets, we picked up Rick and made our way towards the mountains. Specifically, we made our way towards Ha Ling Peak.
The hike was short, full of steep inclines, mixed with sunshine, cool breezes, and later on, a bit of rain. We started around 5:30pm and finished four hours later. As per usual, we were greeted with amazing views during the entire hike, and breathtaking views once we reached the top (a few shots of which are provided below for your viewing entertainment).
As with most of my hikes I learned a thing or two on the mountain. First, dehydration, exhaustion, heat, funky airline food, and Aidan do not mix. Second, I challenge anyone to differentiate between the remnants of a bear attack and red Gatorade mixed with prosciutto and white bread. Third, I prefer climbing up a mountain in the dark vs. climbing down a mountain in the dark. Fourth, rocks and roots are extra slippery on the way down. Fifth, and most importantly, I love the mountains.
Okay, maybe it’s not exactly the time for shenanigans, but shenanigans are nigh – so very, very nigh.
For those not in the know, I’m about to take a real vacation. What do I mean by real vacation? Only that I’m about to board a plane (requisite number 1), travel afar (requisite number 2), and do something crazy (requisite number 3) with someone almost as crazy as me (requisite number 4).
In this particular case, I’ll be boarding my flight to Calgary on Wednesday eve. You can rest assured knowing that my flight will more than likely include a scotch or two – because, well, VACATION!
On the other end of my flight will be fellow partner in adventuring shenaniganery, Mr. Rick. You may remember Rick from last year’s Big Mountain Challenge. You may also remember that last year’s Big Mountain Challenge happened at approximately this time last year – which makes this trip our Big Mountain Challenge-versary. While having a “versary” isn’t a requisite for any of my travels, it does up the awesomeness that is this trip.
What crazy things are we going to be doing? Well, in true “versary” style, we shall be celebrating the Big Mountain Challenge-versary by climbing several mountains. This may or may not include (but most likely will include) jump shots, yoga, high-fives, and seemingly death-defying photos that aren’t really in any way death-defying. Okay, maybe the death-defying photos involve things that most people would find crazy and such, but never fear – Rick is the voice of reason and has the power of veto should any of my ideas push the envelope of good taste or safety. Actually, he’s only ever vetoed things that push the safety envelope, because let’s face it, good taste is not really in our vocabulary. Ha!
So far I’m only aware of two adventures that we’ll be doing. The first – retake Mount Yamnuska. Apparently the first time Rick and I did this, we actually didn’t hit the peak. Clearly this is a mark on my otherwise spotless (Ha!) record, and it must be rectified. The second – conquer Mount Bourgeau.
I can’t freaking wait.
Of course, I still have a bunch of work to do before all of this happens. Which means I need to focus. Easier said than done. My brain is full of outdoors-y thoughts, mountains, fresh air, adventures, shenanigans, laughing, chatting and spending time with someone I don’t get to spend nearly enough time with.
Sigh. Only 52 more hours until my flight leaves. But who’s counting?
I’ve decided that it’s high time I take a full week off of work.
Don’t get me wrong. I know I really should be taking a week off – it’s good for me, I’ll ultimately be far more productive after a proper rest, I have other things that I want to accomplish outside of my academic/work life, and if I don’t use my vacation days I probably deserve to be punched in my stupid head1.
But – and there is a but – I’m actually having a lot of fun at work right now, so it’s a bit difficult to stop. I may change my thinking by the end of this week, what with the papers, posters, proposals, grants, reports, meetings, analyses, and presentations I have to finish up. But I digress.
Regardless, I have begun scouting out options for my vacation. My guess is that I’ll have a bit of a stay-cation at the beginning of August (where I may attempt to paint my condo), followed by an adventure out west with my ever ready to agree to the stupid things I want to do friend Rick2.
Since I have yet to officially book either of these vacations – although my trip to visit Rick to commemorate the Big Mountain Challenge is definitely a go – I can’t quite set my vacation countdown clock yet. Which is – for someone who loves to travel and wanderlust and adventure and shenanigan – rather annoying. Even more annoying, is that this annoyance is of my own doing. That’s annoying squared, I think.
Anyway, I think I’m going to go punch myself for being so annoying.
You may return to your regularly scheduled whatever it was you were doing before I decided to annoy myself and probably everybody else activity.
1 I realize that if Rick is reading this right now, he’s probably rolling his eyes and wanting to punch me in my face for being so stupid. And he would be right to roll his eyes and want to do this. Because not taking a vacation is stupid. Really, really stupid.
2 You may remember Rick from such adventures as this, this, or this.