Thomas Wolfe Was Right-Heavy Books Are Great Paper Weights

The Harkness Family will be taking a vacation this summer.

I got the time off yesterday and the last week of August will be us, piling in the car and driving back to my family in Michigan.

We haven't been back there for about twelve years.

And since I can't afford to board the dogs, we'll probably be taking them with us.

(They are currently running cyclonic circles around the living room until they are both so dizzy that they fall down).

Nothing like a grand entrance.

I sincerely don't want to take them because my sister has cats and I just don't want to be the cause of any consternation but unless someone has a better idea (all suggestions welcome but the ASPCA had better approve), I think we will have to suck it up.

I'll get to meet up with a couple of good friends from high school/college and I'll get to bore my progeny to tears with stories. (No, honest, the ONLY thing I ever did behind the ice cream store was to eat ice cream. That's why I was gone for three hours mom. And I don't know WHY my shirt is on backwards and inside out.)

But what I'm looking forward to the most is sitting up late with my sister and just shooting the breeze. Nothing fancy, nothing special.

I just feel so completely broken right now. Utterly shattered. I can put on a bullshit facade to get through the day but every time I move, I can hear the broken pieces rattling around inside of me. Lately, I've had to convince myself on a daily basis that it is worth starting over. That the modicum of energy I have at the end of the day should be spent looking toward the future.

But I've forgotten where all the pieces go. I've forgotten who I used to be and whether I want to save any of that for the future.

So, I'm going home. Just for a few days. Just to ask my family and friends the ultimate question.

Who am I?

I guess