This is only the second time I’ve ever tried this two-weeks-in-a-row idea for a vacation. Heading into it, I wondered just how I’d fill my time. Two weeks seemed like a long time to hang out at my parents’ house with no real plans to go anywhere or see anyone. But as it turns out, doing nothing suits me very well, and two weeks seems like not nearly enough time to finish doing all the nothing I want to do.<\/p>\n
Granted, I didn’t go from 60 to 0 all in one day. In fact, it takes me a week to stop thinking about work all the time, checking my email, waking up to realize that I’ve been planning or problem solving in my sleep, and worrying just a little that spending my time on the porch with a book is a little like eating cotton candy if you’re diabetic (it satisfies a craving, but it might make life a little touch-and-go afterward). So with two weeks of vacation, I get one solid week of actual, honest to goodness, spend-hours-just-listening-to-the-wind-in-the-trees vacation. I haven’t even read my email in days on end, much less responded.<\/p>\n
Unfortunately, when I get back to real life I have to start serious apartment hunting, which sounds like no fun whatsoever. I hate all the unknowns. I hate the hunt. I hate all the logistics. I hate the actual hauling and moving. I hope it’ll be worth it in the end, but that’s another of those unkowns again.<\/p>\n
Still, that can wait for another couple of days, as can my email. In the mean time, I’ll listen to some leaves rustling, and maybe take a nap. There’s a lot of nothing left to do, and less and less time to do it in.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
This is only the second time I’ve ever tried this two-weeks-in-a-row idea for a vacation. Heading into it, I wondered just how I’d fill my time. Two weeks seemed like a long time to hang out at my parents’ house with no real plans to go anywhere or see anyone. But as it turns out, … Continue reading Taking a breath<\/span>