I’m closing in on one week left before I head on vacation. The last time I had a real vacation was last November, and because my job doesn’t believe in traditional holidays, or happiness, I had 2 days off for Christmas and worked every other holiday. Aside from a three day weekend in May, I’ve taken no time off, and am in a fragile state. I need to get away from work! I need to get away from this city! I need to digital detox! I need to drink! I NEED A VACATION!!!
I’m an antsy person regularly, so put the promise of a week on the beach in front of me, and I’m practically crawling out of my skin. How is it possible for days to pass this slowly? Since when has a week been approximately 5,467 hours long? But the cruel twist of fate is that the week where I’m finally vacating will fly by in such a blur, I’ll barely notice I left at all! You spend so much time counting down and planning and chatting about just how many margaritas you’ll be consuming that when it finally gets here, a week is no exchange for the months spent in anticipation!
My solace will be that my next trip is coming up in October, so just a few short months of counting down and ticking off days in my calendar until I take to the skies again and get outta Dodge! And with just one more endless week left, I’m just 56 sleeping hours, 45 working hours and a 12-hour drive away from paradise!
What’s My Age: 18, waiting for high school graduation and the promise of a celebratory trip to Italy…the longest 180-day wait of my life!! (Until now.)