If I had been looking for this fabled 8th day, the one The Beatles so lovingly sing about...."Eight days a week," it's doubtful it would have been found. Nevertheless, here I am, reliving Sunday for the second time this week.
Here's how we did it, for those interested in trying it out:
1. We booked a campsite on Thursday for a quick Fourth of July weekend celebration.
2. Although the campground was reserved until Sunday, we actually left on Saturday for several reasons:
Reasons we left the campground early:
- We wanted to get away for the weekend to celebrate July 4th but we didn't really want it to be a vacation since we are going on our actual family vacation this week.
- There are many local campgrounds within 10 miles of our house but the ones we wanted to go to were closed, to our surprise, although fire hazard is probably a logical reason to close a campground over this type of holiday.
- After settling on a campsite at The Lake, it didn't take long to realize this was no traditional campground experience, it was an Urban Campground experience. Defined: An Urban Campground exudes all the elements of camping but after midnight turns into a rave festival. Instead of crickets and hooting birds, there are deafening sounds stemming from people that distract any average camper from realizing the vast outdoors. Around 4am most of the music, car alarms, laughing, shouting, sirens from an unseen but local fire station, and stray illegal fireworks, all die down into a peaceful morning. People sounds absent, animal sounds rise, birds chirp, the sun rises and life is as it should be once again, until the next night, of course.
- Two sleepless nights were enough (that's apparently how old I've become.)
- We wanted to get back and unpack, wash the laundry, clean the cars, and relax.
4. By 9pm, the kids are exhausted, crumbling, and emotional. We are ready for a soft bed and peaceful night.
5. Bright and early, a little later than normal, but still on time, my husband rises at 5:45am for work. On the way, he boasts about the light traffic in a message to my brother-in-law, and manages to get a workout in at the gym before heading down to his client in the city of Orange.
6. Meanwhile, I wake, despite the summer, at 6:20am. I proceed to read in the bath, but keep in mind finishing the laundry in preparation for our highly anticipated midweek vacation. I stop reading when the bath runs cold and begin making a mental note of all the tasks that need to be completed before Wednesday while I put makeup on.
7. My husband arrives at work after grabbing breakfast after the gym but doesn't immediately realize he's at work on Sunday rather than Monday. He has to sit there in the empty parking lot for a minute until his brain lets him in on the secret it's been keeping from him: Psst, it's Sunday.
8. I'm ironing my clothes when the cell phone rings. My husband is on the line with a quiz for me: "Hey Babe, what day is it?" The answer doesn't come to me immediately. I am task driven at the moment and choosing my guess from dates, appointments, and soccer matches...it is World Cup after all. I settle with, "Monday?" Not, "Monday." But, "Monday," with a question mark. He says no and asks it again, "What day is it?" More firmly I say, "Monday." Period. Laughter ensues. It is Sunday. We have achieved the Eighth Day!!!!
Now, what should I do with my extended week? Write? Yes, some. Read. I did that when I thought it was Sunday. So many options! It's going to be a good Sunday!!!
Has this ever happened to you before? How did you celebrate your 8th day?
