We are not yet home. This is partly because the interminable series of snowstorms that has hit Cape Cod has set back our bathroom renovation, being done in our absence. You’ll agree that we can’t go home until we have a working toilet.
But it is also partly because we didn’t think we could be so close to Savannah and not stop by to check it out. That is where we are now, and we’ll be staying for a week. I want you to understand, though, that this isn’t, strictly speaking, a vacation. Kevin and I both have portable jobs, and we have simply ported them to Savannah. He is trading, and I am writing.
To prove it, I will you point you in the direction of a piece I have over at the Huffington Post. I’m sure most of you saw that report that found about a third of fish in restaurants and markets was mislabeled. I did, too, and I decided, what with being on vacation and all (okay, it’s still kinda vacation), I had time to read the whole report. When you read the whole report, you find out that the scary headlines are overblown. Way overblown. But you don’t have to read the whole report — you can get away with reading my synopsis.
But back to my vacation. Those of you who’ve been following Starving for a while may know that, although I have a perfectly legitimate excuse to not be at home right now, I also have a much less legitimate one — I hate March on Cape Cod. There’s no fishing yet, there’s no spring greenery, and it’s still way too cold. And it goes on forever. The joke here is that the Cape Cod calendar goes: January, February, March, March, March, June.
At least now I know what to expect. That first year, though, it took me by surprise: The Long March.