From City-Data.com
Copyright © 2013 by Ralph F. Couey
Written content only
Vacation!
In the glossary of the workday dictionary, there's no other word which conveys such a soul-satisfying combination of joy, peace, and freedom. For 7 or 14 glorious days and nights, we revel in that magical realm of "Don't have to be anywheresville." The burdens of the job are gleefully unshouldered and cast aside as we dance away the chains of servitude.
(Actually, if you're one of those people who use up vacation just so you can clean gutters and screens and paint walls, you can stop here.)
Vacations actually happen in stages.
In the planning stage, a destination is chosen and dates decided. Reservations are made while the mind begins to manufacture a virtual reality play called "What It Will Be Like."
In the next stage, we unload our burdens, engaging in the somewhat delicate ballet of shifting jobs to co-workers. Whether they want them or not, the jobs are taken on, mainly because they (and you) know full well that the reverse will happen when their time comes up. At home, you arrange for the mail and the newspaper to be held, the dog to be boarded, and the request to the neighbors to "keep an eye on things" during the absence.
The third phase usually kicks in about Wednesday before leaving. You know Friday is coming, but part of you feels a sort of dream-like unreality that this trip is actually going to happen.
In the glossary of the workday dictionary, there's no other word which conveys such a soul-satisfying combination of joy, peace, and freedom. For 7 or 14 glorious days and nights, we revel in that magical realm of "Don't have to be anywheresville." The burdens of the job are gleefully unshouldered and cast aside as we dance away the chains of servitude.
(Actually, if you're one of those people who use up vacation just so you can clean gutters and screens and paint walls, you can stop here.)
Vacations actually happen in stages.
In the planning stage, a destination is chosen and dates decided. Reservations are made while the mind begins to manufacture a virtual reality play called "What It Will Be Like."
In the next stage, we unload our burdens, engaging in the somewhat delicate ballet of shifting jobs to co-workers. Whether they want them or not, the jobs are taken on, mainly because they (and you) know full well that the reverse will happen when their time comes up. At home, you arrange for the mail and the newspaper to be held, the dog to be boarded, and the request to the neighbors to "keep an eye on things" during the absence.
The third phase usually kicks in about Wednesday before leaving. You know Friday is coming, but part of you feels a sort of dream-like unreality that this trip is actually going to happen.