a heartbreaking work of staggering genius

One of the marks of a great rental house is good mattresses.
Mattresses in rental homes are often lumpy or too hard - cheap, I guess. I can't say I blame the landlords of the summer rental market - I know I'd probably try to spend less if I was furnishing a place I wasn't going to be living in.
But this house has great beds, and lots of them.
Originally I was in a room with a teeny window and two large ones. It had an old white dresser, two wooden chairs (some of these things are antiques and some whitewashed and new looking) and a double bed. It was firm but not too firm and was, disappointingly, covered in plastic. (This is also usually the case in rental houses - the dreaded plastic sheet. Many times I remove them and replace them when we leave but this time I didn't have the energy.)
K's mom chose the master bedroom with a 12 foot ceiling and exposed original antique beams. It too had a double bed but also had a single bed under the eaves. After spending the first night there she decided that the room wasn't comfortable. And, while it's true that the heavy hand hewn beams running over the bed are a little disconcerting, I was more than happy to trade rooms with her. I appreciate the ensuite and the bed is up against a big double window
which is nice when there's a breeze. The mattress in my new room is fabulous and didn't have a plastic cover.
The downside is that I now realize how badly our mattress at home needs to be replaced.

I like to see pretty things in a rental house - dishes of shells, little nightlights, some wicker chairs, nice artwork.
This house has plenty of lovely items. Everywhere I look there is an interesting painting (mostly nautical) or a mirror. Colored glass bottles line windowsills and transom lights and there is beautiful old hardware on the doors.

Finally, it's always nice to find magazines and books in these houses.
Not so many that they get musty from the dampness of being near the water, but enough to skim through over the week we stay.
Though you may not believe it, I actually started a book on Monday and am about to finish it.
It has just enough pathos to keep my mind occupied, is just funny enough to make me smile and written in the way I think I think.
It's been the perfect bedtime companion.

Today we head back to Nauset Light beach which we visited a couple of days ago.
Our trip there earlier this week ended up being one of those beach days which cannot be duplicated.
It was windy, but warm, the water was frigid (58F) but somehow tolerable, we had good snacks and Youngest and his little cousins had a marvelous time - which means that the grown-ups enjoyed themselves too.
It is my experience that we really only have one of those days per trip: a historic beach trip wherein everything falls into
place and cannot be better, but Nauset is Youngest's most favorite beach and so we will try it again.

Yesterday, I took him to Provincetown.
We had clam rolls and walked and browsed. He was a nice date for the day.
We had steamed lobsters last night and I had a good long phone conversation with K before I turned in.
He had had a good day at home too and he reminded me for the hundredth time that he wants Youngest and I to enjoy our time here - that I should stop worrying so much and just have fun.
I had written a post for today about how hard it is for me to let go and relax - to not worry or feel anxious, about how I feel a little like I have post-traumatic stress disorder. That post was a heartbreaking work of shattering genius.

But today is another day, our last day, and we are going to have some fun, so I killed it.

I'm going on a photo excursion today too, I'm going to take pictures of every beautiful thing I can find and I will post them on Sunday.


(I will also try to answer all emails and questions on Sunday...NO INTERNET at my house.)