1. On Saturday evening, when he is supposed to already be on the road to your aunt and uncle's place, where you already are because you went up the day before on the bus so you could hang with your cousins, which is halfway to the cottage on the lake where you intend to vacation, he is still at home. Not packed. Not ready. You negotiate an early start Sunday morning for him.
2. On Monday, when you are at the cottage, mesmerized by the sound of the crashing waves, he will spend three hours working in the morning in the cottage and then will drive ten miles into town to the library, where he can get online. On of the attractions of the cottage is its lack of TV and internet.
3. On Tuesday, he will spend four hours at the library.
4. On Wednesday, he will sign campaign literature for an hour ("Sorry I missed you!" on the pieces he takes with him when he does door), then spend two hours at the library after you play tennis. This is a "I just need five minutes online" two hours. This is after the two of you spent two hours at the library before tennis. You will spend an hour of that time arguing about his website and how to edit it and whether it is critically important to try to figure out where Wordpress puts the footer (Wordpress is horrible) so you can take out the extra "m" in the campaign treasurer's last name. (I did not think it was important. I especially don't think it's important in retrospect knowing that the treasurer never did a single bit of treasuring. I did all the financial reports and tracking, but Samantha didn't think it looked good to have my name listed as treasurer because she thought it showed Primo couldn't get support from women he wasn't married to.)
5. On Thursday, he will spend an hour on a conference call with the Polka Dot candidate committee.
6. On Friday, he will actually start to relax, although he will spend an hour signing lit.
7. On Saturday, he will relax.
8. On Sunday, you will leave.