By the time March rolled around this year it was already looking like going on the Caribbean cruise we originally planned for our May wedding anniversary was not only a spectacularly stupid idea, but a month later it was literally impossible. At least not without a "heist movie" level of planning, scuba gear, and probably grappling hooks. And frankly that sounded like too much work to get onto a cruise ship, so we accepted the fact it wasn't gonna happen.
But we were determined to go somewhere that wasn't our own house (because we'd soon be seeing the inside of that rat hole far more than we ever wanted to over the next two months...). However, we'd have to go on vacation in a way that would be responsible. You know, the New Normal type of responsible. And really? Avoiding an invisible microscopic virus that's out to kill all human life is actually not that hard. It's trying to avoid a bunch of pandemic-filled meat sacks who all refuse to follow the damned rules that becomes ridiculously burdensome. Despite the fact that they are all made up of millions of cells and are easily spotted from a distance. I just get real tired of yelling, "Stand a little farther away from me! And put on an effing mask while you're at it, you waste of air!" I should probably just get that printed on a t-shirt.
Anyway, after thinking it over for a few agonizing seconds, I realized that the government never really specified that if I was self-quarantining it absolutely had to be in the place where I'm currently paying mortgage. What if it was a place that I rented for, say, just one week? And, say, that place just happened to be on The Outer Banks? It's still technically, temporarily "my" place because I have a rental contract that says so. The government didn't say anything that specific... Problem solved!
Except a week after paying an obscene amount of money for a condo that we would occupy for merely six days, they closed The Outer Banks. Like, they actually rolled up the bridges and turned the "open" sign around.
This is pretty much how it is with my life. I don't even get surprised anymore when things go pear shaped. It has something to do with an old Gypsy curse that was cast onto my family back when my great grandfather was an asshole to the wrong mysterious old woman living in a yurt in the middle of a spooky forest, surrounded by herbs, animal skulls, and odd things hanging from twine from all of the tree branches. I just assume that's what happened anyway.
So the wind completely left the sails of our Going To The Beach To Quarantine! ship.
BUT, miracles sometimes do occur despite the curse! Because they re-opened The Outer Banks to visitors on the very same day we were scheduled to move into our obscenely expensive beach condo! So we frantically packed a household worth of stuff into the car and drove 10 hours towards the Atlantic Ocean.
And when we got there, it was glorious.
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| Our obscenely expensive back yard for 6 days. |
Except... The day after we arrived, Tropical Storm Arthur landed right on top of us. And we never saw the sun again. The curse lives on. The End.
Well, no, that wasn't really the end of the vacation. We just sort of had to accept it and try to make the most of the circumstances. There was a lot of sitting on the balcony and watching the waves and drinking heavily to lessen the pain.
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| Arthur, Jack, and I enjoying some quality time together. |
We did manage to do a few touristy things during the brief periods when it wasn't raining. And I took lots of quality photographs to prove we managed to have some fun! Here are the highlights...
This is me at the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse! Fortunately there weren't many pandemic-filled meat sacks there, so it was easy enough to skirt around the other side of the lighthouse when one started encroaching on my minimum acceptable personal space rule of 40 feet.
This is when we went putt-putt golfing. There was a place nearly right across the street from the condo and it had a pirate theme. Which was too much to resist because there's only one thing I love more than Ramen noodles, and that's a well done pirate theme!
(Don't worry, we got there just as they opened and managed to play all 18 holes before the mask-less meat sacks showed up.)
This is our last day at the condo, which came way too soon. Amazingly (and most likely as a dick move by the Universe) the sun actually came back just in time for us to pack up and drive home.
We decided to split the drive back into two days so we stopped in Cherokee, NC to spend the night at an obscenely expensive hotel, and take in a little of the scenery.
The next morning we visited the Museum of the Cherokee Indian before all of the diseased tourists showed up. This room with the ceremonial masks was my favorite part.
You know, I used to never be a morning person, but I've discovered recently that the early bird gets the social distancing they desperately desire. So I'm all about the crack of dawn now. You meat sacks have to get up a lot earlier if you want to thwart my virus-free day!
In actuality I took so many more pictures. But this post is long enough and all of those are really boring anyway...
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| Got real sick of looking at this crap every day. YAWN. |
This place has too much sand, lighthouses, and ocean. Do not recommend.
We've been home for a couple of days now and it's been challenging to get back into the routine of wearing sunglasses outside again. But it's nice to occasionally go on a vacation away from home to reset your perspective and make you appreciate what you have. Even if it is a rat hole. But it's my modestly expensive rat hole containing only my meat sacks.
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