On Friday afternoon of last week, Joshua and I flew down to Washington for the weekend.
We joined my parents for a busy 48 hours in Washington, 48 hours into which we managed to squeeze a performance of the Royal Ballet (the main point of our Washington visit), two plays, and several art exhibitions.
We were out and about from early morning until late at night all weekend, and we had a lovely time.
On Friday morning of this week, Josh and I will rise at 3:00 a.m. and take a cab to the airport to catch an early flight home. If everything proceeds according to schedule, Josh and I should be in Minneapolis no later than 8:15 a.m. Minneapolis time.
My middle brother will pick Josh and me up at the airport and take us home. As soon as we arrive home, we plan to have a big breakfast, after which we will all immediately head up to the lake for a week of quiet and tranquility. We hope to arrive at the lake no later than 12:00 Noon.
Each year, we all keenly look forward to our week at the lake, yet this year we are more eager than ever for the week to get under way, what with both a niece and a nephew to play with and care for this year.
It should be great fun.
Meanwhile, I am intently completing assignments at work, all of which must be finished no later than Thursday afternoon—or I shall not be able to go away for six weeks.
I am on the verge of panic.
Josh has been busy preparing our things for the summer, determining what we will take with us and what we will leave behind, and boxing up a few things we no longer need in Boston—“detritus we don’t have room for” in Josh’s words—and shipping them home.
I hope he held on to our flatware.