I’ve been in Florida for a couple months and realized this morning that it is time to pack up my suitcase and return to God’s country (Florida is nice, but God’s country is wherever your roots are, and for me, it’s Idaho). But there’s a problem. Not only do I need to pack, I also see that I need to sort. Surely this isn’t what God would want me to do in my last moments of vacation! Besides, today is National Margarita Day, and I’m likely to take a break sometime today to celebrate. A nearby restaurant called Salt Life makes amazing margaritas, and I want to have one today, or maybe two. It’s my duty and I’m sure God agrees.
I began to sort things this morning, thinking I could toss this or that to lighten my load on the airliner, but so far, I have found only one thing that is totally unnecessary: an extra pair of shoelaces, because I had to buy a new pair of shoes and the old laces are too short for the new shoes. Go figure.
My suitcase was loaded to the gills when I flew in, weighed more than the airline allowed, and now I have more. How did that happen? I didn’t buy anything, or at least I thought I hadn’t, but I guess I did. As I look around, I see a yoga mat, two sweatshirts, a new pair of tennis shoes, a keyboard and mouse, and of course all those shells that I found to remind me that there is life after snow. And the stocking caps that I knitted, what to do with them? Surely no one needs them here in Florida! I also bought two masks, which thankfully take up no space. Now I must figure out how to get a jammed suitcase even more jammed or give in and buy a duffle that will accommodate my slightly used yoga mat and allow the airline to double charge me for my bags. It’s a dilemma.
I checked the refrigerator to see what was left over and found a bag of green peppers, a half-gallon of milk, ten eggs, and two pounds of bacon. I’m not sure what I can do with them but I’m betting there must be some sort of casserole that I could throw together, although it’s not coming to me. I could eat the two pounds of bacon in one sitting but won’t. What a conundrum! Would margaritas go with bacon? Maybe. I discovered that I really, really like shrimp tacos and want to have a couple before I leave, which will eliminate my motivation for creating my own casserole. My tiny pantry housed Tabasco sauce and a bottle of wine and a life-time supply of hand sanitizer. I can’t take the wine on the plane, which means, you know, I’ll be forced to drink it, but the Tabasco and hand sanitizer likely will be donated to my Florida buddy, Trish, or left for future residents of this apartment.
So, I’ve got to get crackin’ and start packin’. I have stuff to do, and margaritas to drink, tacos to devour, and a few more treks down the beach. I’ll be back in my version of God’s country soon, wearing my mask, of course.
By the way, if you have a bacon casserole idea for me, share it here! Maybe I will find time to give one a shot!
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