"What are you going to do now?"
I'm going to Disney World.
I'm not even kidding.
Bill and I are leaving for Disney World this weekend.
We've had our reservations for six months, and we've been counting the days since then.
Ninety days ahead of our stay, we called the dining reservations line and made reservations for every single day we're going to be there, according to our pre-engineered schedule, which was planned in accordance with the scheduled park openings, closings, and Extra Magic Hours.
Unfortunately, I didn't call early enough in the day to get the Fantasmic! dinner package for the night we wanted.
We also missed out on the Epcot Segway tour.
But you'll be delighted to hear that we're dining at the California Grill during the nightly Wishes fireworks display. And at the Bistro de Paris. And two character breakfasts at the Crystal Palace, because it grants you early admission to the Magic Kingdom, and you can be first on line for Space Mountain.
Right now you might be saying, "Surely Janice is being ironic now, and writing as a comedic character, in order to illustrate how ridiculous, competitive, and hyper-consumptive the consumer culture in America is, leading to global inequity of wealth, waste and resources."
But you will be wrong. And we will be first on line for Space Mountain.
Yes, friends, the truth is out. I have horrible taste. I am banal, and a sheep, and insufficiently uninterested in places of actual historical, cultural, or environmental significance. I enjoy the obvious, the overdone, and the unoriginal. I am so shallow and predictable that I allow Disney World to manipulate me into being happy and having fun.
Furthermore, I am the Typest A personality that ever typed. Bill and I are running this vacation like it's The Amazing Race, planning days that start with us waking at 6:30 and going to bed at midnight, committing maps and routes to memory in advance.
What kind of fucking weirdo schedules every single hour of her vacation?
The same one that wrote a book in six months.