I spent all last week at work frantically tying up all the loose ends. By 5:00 on Friday I finally felt like I had input all the data, made all my phone calls, put copies in the appropriate mailboxes, and programmed a special message to anyone sending me an email over the next five days.
I spent the majority of the weekend with my family, doing umpteen loads of laundry, packing, tidying up the house, and making travel plans. We had already made reservations at the hotel. We mapped out our route. We started to pack some food for the road.
Now my husband and I are debating departure times. I should be happy he doesn’t want to leave at 3 or 4 in the morning, which is his usual modus operandi. I know he’d like to catch the Reds game, but I don’t know… I’d be okay with waiting until 11, since we can’t check into the motel until 4:00.
I’m planning to take my laptop and a few books… I never get extended time to focus on my writing. I know it’s a vacation, and I’ll enjoy time with my family, but I look forward to just a little “me” time.
I’m sure our car ride will be fun-filled. I’m sure the cherubic children won’t be fighting, complaining, or acting obnoxiously silly during the trip. I’m sure we won’t have any problems with construction, detours, or traffic on the way. I’m sure we won’t have any problems with our hotel room or reservations. I’m sure it will be a relaxing, fun, family time.
My husband and I will return home in a few short days, our children riding happily to their grandparents’ house. Even if it’s 7:00 at night we’ll probably crawl into bed, exhausted, leaving the unpacking to another time.
Then, bright and early the next morning, it’ll be off to a board meeting, follow by a quick check at the office and then an hour and a half drive for a three hour training session.
Sometimes I wonder if all the work getting ready for and recovering from a vacation are really worth it. I’ll let you know in a few days…