Nothing turned itself inside-out

It's my last day at the beach and I'm a little nervous. I have a whole lot of nothing to do and only one day to do it in. I'm normally really good at doing tons of nothing in an extremely short amount of time, but that's normally. This is the beach. Nothing takes more time here than it does at home.

My dad was talking to me a few days ago about how, when we lived overseas, we would come to this beach for two weeks, and he wouldn't truly feel the beach spirit until about Thursday of the first week. Translation: it takes about four days for your brain to completely shut down. The problem with that, he told me, was how painful it was at the end of those two weeks to trade his bathing suit for a business suit and take the flight back to Greece. I may only have an hour-long flight and I can dress more casually to work, but I still know it's going to hurt.

This concludes the last something of the day. Nothing will now commence.