Just, just, just, just, just, just, just, just a half a mile awaaaay, oh, don't you understand it's just a half a mile away

I've been hating most things lately.

Traffic. Loud noises. The sound of whispering. Dropping things. Clothes that don't fit right. Cars that don't flip on their turn signals. Alarm clocks that have the audacity to ring -- period.

And you know what that means ... It must be dang close to my vacation time.

While I was looking at my calendar today at work I noticed it was right there, just weeks away. Less than a month. And, like a nerd, my heart started beating really fast and I sat up a little taller at my desk. I'd start counting down the hours, but my heart couldn't take the pressure.

It's so close that my micro-planning's taking off. Because planning what I'm going to take with me and when I'm going to go where is much more exciting than watching reruns of "Heroes." Vacation's so close. So close. Billy Joel would argue it was just a half a mile away. Or maybe he wouldn't. I would.