This has been the summer of the “staycation,” a dumbass euphemism for being too broke to go anywhere interesting. Instead, people are encouraged to discover their own town, to go on holiday in their own backyard—literally, their own backyard. Instead of flying to a foreign country, renting a condo at the beach, or roadtripping to Wall Drug, set up a tent on your patio and sleep al fresco. What could be better?
Um, most anything.
If you are sitting on your couch for two weeks, you’re not on vacation. You’re unemployed or broke or both. Vacationing at home only makes you think about the shit you have to get done. Instead of recharging your batteries on this naycation, you’ll paint the kitchen, record your expenses into Quicken, grout the tub. Some holiday. It almost beats that time when you were 11 and you went on that cross-country family roadtrip right around the time your parents split up, doesn’t it?
Naming something annoyingly cute doesn’t make it so. Just look at Soleil Moon Frye or the critter from Gremlins. Yeah, Gizmo was adorbs…until you added water. A staycation sounds appealing…until you realize that you just reorganized your closet, waxed the floors as well as your bits and pieces, and sewed all the missing buttons on your clothing. Productive? Yes. Relaxing? Just stay no.
Don't even get me going about babymoons…