Quebec ain't no France, I'll tell you that much

Last week I took a little solo vacation to Old Orchard Beach in Maine and stayed at my brother's "trailer," which is technically a house that moves and rests on a campground, so it's like staying in a house, but on a campsite. Get it? It's pretty cool really. I felt like the wealthy guy on the block with the mansion among RV's and tents. (There were one or two 'nicer' trailer homes I noticed, which gave me a bit of trailer house envy.) Either way, I think we can safely say that my family has become bonafide trailer trash. Especially if you saw what was surrounding me. Apparently OOB is a destination for Quebec-ians. I heard that and I thought, great! I'll be surrounded by french people! They are quiet and sophisticated and maybe I'll even understand some of what they say in their beautiful language!
(Okay, shortly I will figure out how to link you to my previous posting about how my ears hurt in Massachusetts because I hate the way people sound when they talk. Point is, if you don't already know, I'm very sensitive to the sounds of people voices and have very little tolerance for abrasive accents, like my mother's for instance.)
But I digress, as usual, and I'm going to hell.
Turns out, the Quebec-ians have harsh-sounding accents, they're fat and loud and they have NO sense of personal space. I wish I could have been a dot on a map of the beach, and you could have followed me in Google Earth or some such program as I moved my towel "to and fro" on the beach to get away from everyone who kept invading my space. I didn't go for a run while I was in Maine, but I did get quite a lot of exercise walking "to and fro" on the beach - escaping loud, obnoxious people. Annoying people are so much more annoying when they're in bathing suits. Okay, I may have had a bit of PMS as well as there were so many other things that were on my nerves, including me, but it disheartened me to know that such a beautiful language could really sound so abrasive with a canadian accent.
I went to Portland for a Power Yoga class. It was 90 degrees outside, and they heated the f(*ing room to about 103. I hate heated yoga.
But you know what I do like? I like hanging around the house with SSMG and the dogs and doing nothing, which is what we did yesterday. Absolutely nothing. I watched a lot of TV, read a lot and obsessed over Sam and Muffin. In between we ate and drank, and all in all, I think it was healing and therapeutic because today I am back on track, looking for a job and going for a run. So the moral of today's post is, getaways can be fun and shed new light on our lives by giving us a new perspective, but really there's nothing better to do abovementioned personal growth than sitting around doing nothing with those you love for a day.
Bubble on.