In short, I did nothing. I did absolutely nothing, and it was everything that I thought it could be.
Allow me to explain. For the most part, everyone sees being self employed as very romantic. You are your own boss, you make your own hours, you can write off a shit ton of your living expenses on your taxes, you can drink while you work, and best of all it was a short ten second commute from my bedroom to my office. All absolutely true. But as anyone who shuns the employer/employee life will tell you, there are also some down sides. Not the least of which is this filthy little secret: you never really get to go on vacation. Sure you can take time off, do some travelling, see some friends. But you've always got that weight in the back of your mind. How is my business doing? Did anything fuck up? Am I making enough money to survive while I'm gone? And when you add the cost of the vacation itself to the income lost during your absence, shit gets expensive quickly. And so you pack a laptop or a tablet with you and then when it's 6am and you're sitting one some shitty hotel room chair with the a laptop glowing in your face, it hits you. You're not really on vacation. At least not to the extend that other 'regularly employed' people are.
And so this past week I did something I haven't done in over twelve fucking years. I packed up The Boss Lady and we left our troubles at home and we went on vacation. A real honest-to-fucking-goodness vacation. To Las Vegas, in case you were curious, where I finally got the chance to eat at In-N-Out Burger. And with all due respect to you west coast motherfuckers, that shit doesn't hold a goddamn candle to Five Guys. We also ate at the Heart Attack Grill and rode the High Roller -- with open bar -- to the top of the city. I played a little video blackjack at Frankie's Tiki Bar where I did much better than I did at casinos on the strip. I got the opportunity to test out my ankle -- which I am glad to report is doing pretty well -- with some hiking around Red Rock Canyon with Bacon and Mamasan and then later had a big fucking steak dinner at Las Vegas's iteration of NYC's famous Gallagher's Steak House for my birthday, and it was fucking GLORIOUS. Oh, side note. Does anyone know what kind of cactus this is? About a two feet tall, a foot in diameter, and the spines were stiff as fuck. Oh, then before heading back we picked up some Las Vegas casino souveniers for some friends and other souveniers for other friends.
And I did it all without my fucking laptop, and yes, it was everything that I thought it could be.