One of my friends mentioned on a conf call this morning that I’ll be out the next two days.
Another friend IM’d to say how happy it made them to hear those words. That I am finally taking a day for myself.
I’ve been feeling kind of weird about it. I mean, the only days I’ve been out of town (six workdays in four years), I worked during all or at least half of them.
I’ve not done the “Seeya, wouldn’t wanna be ya” thing in a good 5.5 years. And even then it was just a day or two at a time.
My one friend reminded me that I’m not like Soccer Ball to the Head #1, #2 and #3, though. They leave town with things unfinished. Half the time they don’t even tell you they are leaving and/or that the thing you need is unfinished.
I mean I am still waiting for something from one of their Christmas breaks. I did it myself, mind you. Spent three hours teaching myself how to do it, and 10 minutes actually doing it.
I heard Soccer Ball to the Head #1 lamenting the fact that they actually put thought into the project I needed (that they were all too happy to jet the fuck out of town before completing). Waah boo hoo.
Alas, I hope that I am benchmarked against those types in my review and not against the Goddess of the Last Three Years who should have given up her apartment, because she worked so much.
I don’t know what my goals are for the next year, beyond finding my compass and taking the remaining 26 vacation days and not actually pelting people with soccer balls. I’m just happy for the opportunity to keep on keepin’ on, and seeing the light of day more than usual but just a little tiny bit less than most.
That’s balance. And I’m more than OK with that.
Flowers from one of my boys today …
