I have a problem with vacations.
My problem is that I want one. Might even go so far as to say that I NEED one.
It's been several years.
The thing is - I have trouble taking a vacation because there are so many more lasting and responsible things we could do with our money.
If we had money, that is.
One of our cars, a Volkswagen Jetta, is 11 years old. Our other car, a Toyota Matrix, currently has a broken windshield, no hubcaps and a V100 sticker holding the back bumper on. But it's nearly paid off - and not a moment too soon, as we're inching ever closer to reaching the national average for credit card debt.
Our clothes dryer is contemplating a career change (it aspires to be the first icebox with tumbling action), while our air conditioner is going through menopause (unpredictable hot flashes, general moodiness, considerable whining).
Our yard was recently blessed by the appearance of a small pool of black, mucky goo with a scent dogs find irresistible. Black gold? Texas tea? No such luck, although I could bottle and sell this Eau de Swamprot and fund one fine vacation, except few dogs carry cash and the allure of this fragrance doesn't cross over to humans.
I'm a practical person. I understand the difference between a need and a want. I get that it would be irresponsible to traipse off to the beach to get sunburned and sand flea bitten and jellyfish stung. I've calculated the cost of gas to the closest beach and back, have added up how long it would take, how much we'd likely spend eating out.
It's simply not going to happen. There are more pressing priorities.