Vay-cay pahleese

You know it might be time for a vacation when you've changed all of your passwords to things like "beach party," "margarita pitcher" and "palm trees."* I, my friends, have reached that point.

On top of my password vacation spree I noticed as I unpacked my groceries last night that most of the food I had bought was vacationy and summeresque, if food can be such things.
Cheese slices and peppered salami: perfect for backyard or poolside consumption.
Limeade juice mix: my preferred post lawn mowing drink and delicious with a little tequila (Consumer Reports says that something like 60 plus percent of homeowners who mow their own lawns are men. PSHA is what I say to that. I do my own!)
Giant grapefruits: taste like Florida and are a good substitute for perfume if you eat them as sloppily as I do

All of these things were swirling in my head last night as I painted my toenails and updated my mental countdown to California (36 days). Then, I turn my nail polish bottle over to check the name. It said, "Cabana."

Can I go on vacation yet? I'm afraid the next step will be seeing mirages at my desk...


*These aren't my actual passwords, they are LIKE my passwords. The tech department at work would throw a fit if they thought I was posting my actual passwords on Sidenote: and, really, I'm not that much of an idiot.

Picture from Google images but I wish it was my backyard...