Dejavu

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This morning I woke up and thought that I was on vacation. Not that month-long thing that I took to the US (and from the blog, apparently), but on a real vacation at the beach.

Balboa Island, to be exact. This is a man-made island near Newport Beach, CA.

My sweetie's family vacationed there every summer for the two weeks after Independence Day as a tradition. That tradition is now gone, but I was able to experience the last eight years. I loved the smells, the sounds and the general feel of the island.

The air was thick. The people completely relaxed. And the homes were under constant construction.

This morning I found out that my neighbors above us are doing construction. Either that or they have hired at least two people to sit upstairs and pound hammers all day. I don't know what they are doing, but there are hammers involved.

I'm not complaining, I liked the feeling I had when I got up. And I liked that it lasted most of the day. Until it was too hot for the humidity to be comfortable.

It was relaxing and familiar.

I liked that about today.

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