A Sloth in the Middle East

My brain is mush.  My thoughts come as an interior monologue of grunts.  I am for all intense purposes intellectually brain dead.  And this is a result of spending the last three weeks on vacation in Israel.

Normally in these blog accounts, I tend to go into great detail of my misadventures and escapades, giving a blow-by-blow account of every sight, sound, and smell.  This time, however, you will forgive me for glossing over the details in favor of a more languorous and hazy description.  It does, I believe, do justice to the experience, which could be characterized as being in the more hazy, zen-like, dreamy realm.

So what did I do for 3 weeks?  I slept, I ate, I saw friends, I traveled at bit (to the beach, up north, and even Jerusalem), and I contracted a vicious stomach bug that rendered me incapable of eating anything more than a bit of toast.  That’s about it.  The stomach bug wasn’t even so terrible, considering I could happily listen to the idle chatter of family and friends below from my position upon that glorious porcelain throne.  But don’t worry, I won’t go into detail.

All in all, there is nothing quite so splendid as sitting in my parents’ back garden, gazing somewhat half-focused at the avocado trees, and listening noncommittally to the sounds of doves, parrots, Palestinian warblers, and the like.  And above all, not having to use my brain.

I trust that my mental faculties will return at some point.  It’s ok to be so impaired while on holiday, but I am going to need them eventually.

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