Vacation

It's June 30th, 2015. I am happy, really happy. It's warm, warm enough that my sweat doesn't quite dry, all over my entire body, and I do not care. I text Lizz that I'm happy, but her response does not determine whether or not I actually am. I eat trader joes Caesar salad, then cook an Italian sausage over the fire. Leo sits on my lap, I drink beer almost as a joke. Ryan is in the kitchen right now cooking hamburger sliders. My boss emails me, says he wishes I could take two weeks off. This is my real life, nothing else is.