It's time to dig out the pool toys: we're heading to Maine again. This time the weather will be warmer and the pool will be heated. Or so the innkeepers promise. We don't really care what the weather is, we're always happier up there.
I began keeping packing lists for different kinds of trips years ago, and they've saved me on many occasions. I have "Packing of Paris," Packing for Home," and "Packing for Maine," among many others. I'll check what I packed for the last trip, revise it a little, and then follow it, zombie-like, until my bag is full. For Maine, I need to remember trail guides and mushroom identification books, photos of the cats for the mantel, warm socks for cold nights in the bungalow, a pile of old New Yorkers for soggy reading in the hot tub, a sharp knife because they never have any, and a respectable swimsuit cover-up because the innkeepers always find reasons to drag us straight from the pool for treks around town. Plus the usual: shorts, tees, flip flops, swimwear, and a fleece.
My freelance writing project will be packed up for Maine, although I wish it could stay here. The innkeepers removed the desk in our bungalow and replaced it with a drying rack — much more useful for the average guest, but I will have to find a spot to read the comments I've gotten on my work so far. Then I need to research the eight contemporary artists who are next.
I already miss the cats. That's the hard part of going away. We have an excellent sitter, but the cats miss us, too. We must find a way to bring them to Maine next year. I'm sure Possum would love hanging around the pool in his Foster Grants, chatting up the innkeepers. The other three would be less enthusiastic, complaining about sunblock in their fur and hiding under the bed for days.
Soon I will stop procrastinating and pack, but first I must finish the remains of the squashed bakery item my husband bought me, at a deep discount, from Shaw's last night. I'm not sure what it was supposed to be, but it had a great deal of frosting, some of it bright blue, a cupcake of sorts, and some chocolate chip cookies. Nom, nom. It took me two nights to finish; I am not complaining. But I don't think I will be packing bikinis this year, I'm sorry to say. Well, maybe one; I love relaxing in the hot tub under the stars.
Next post will be from Southwest Harbor.