There was a time when I rarely too days off. Most famously, I went two years and 28 days without a vacation. I pretty much went crazy the second I was off, but that’s neither here no there. I just couldn’t think of things to do beyond sitting on my couch or visiting friends, which I did on the weekends, so I disliked taking time off.
Also, vacations are expensive, and I was a poor journalist for a very long time, so it wasn’t like I was going to use that time to go to Miami or Vegas or something.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve seen the value of taking time off.
I now average about three months between long weekends or full weeks off.
I can tell.
I’m frazzled right now, and the earliest I can take a four-day weekend is May 4-6. I have something to do every weekend Until April 26th, and the only reason I’m not taking that weekend off is that is because I want to try to schedule something that Friday or Monday that I’ve been putting off.
Yep, I’m putting off more things than just time off. I’ve been awful at not working this year.
Anyway, on this May weekend, I want to do some research in a city without anyone beyond Renée knowing I’m in the area. I want very limited human interaction. Well, I’ll probably let someone know at some point in the weekend because I’m not very keen on buying a hotel room for three nights unless I have a good deal.
One of those days, I’m going to do absolutely nothing. I want to lay in bed and write or read a book until I have an overwhelming sense of laziness. On a chill day at home, I still feel obligated to do something. On a vacation in a new place, it seems wrong to waste a day there.
That’s why I’m going to a place where I’ve seen it all before.
I cant wait.