“Well, in case you don’t go to the beach tomorrow–” Brooke said, but
“I’m going,” I interrupted her. “I’ll hate myself if I don’t!”
But I sabotaged myself and stayed up past one in the morning doing nothing in particular. I was chatting with Roderick and Shafa, which was cool, but otherwise all I was doing was reading Attack of the Bacon Robots and being annoyed by the printing errors. I could do that any old time.
Part of it was that I was starting to get nervous about going to the beach by myself. I asked Sean if he wanted to go, twice, and he said no. None of my friends ended up being available. As I lay in bed this morning trying to wake up (I had one of those mornings where I think I’m going to get up and then for some reason fall back asleep), I thought, “Who’ll watch my stuff while I’m swimming?” The answer, of course, was no one.
Later I was finally able to get up, and after a fit of coughing (stupid air conditioner always makes me congested) and my morning pills, I decided to check Google Maps to see how long it would take to get to a beach. I was assuming three hours to Tybee Island and two and a half to Myrtle Beach.
Google says it’ll take four hours to get to either.
That didn’t really mesh with my experience, so I checked Mapquest, which said four hours to Myrtle and three hours to Tybee. I thought it was faster to get to Myrtle Beach!
But either way, it was going to be more than six hours in the car, round trip, for not much sunlight at the beach.
So I’m sitting here at the computer instead of going.
If I’d gotten up early like I originally said I would, I might have gone. But I stayed up late. I don’t really know why.
You watch, I won’t have another chance to go to the beach for a long time, and I’ll feel like a moron for missing this opportunity.