When Hubby Bryan bellowed up the stairs this morning, “I’m going out to blow snow,” I was rudely jolted from a lovely dream — a dream where I didn’t have to go to work.
But vacation was last week. This morning, it was back to reality.
Usually, after a week out of the office, I’m somewhat ready to get back to work, back to the routine. Not this time around.
I had originally scheduled my days off in the hope that maybe Hubby Bryan and I would have a chance to go somewhere warm for a few days. We were definitely ready to escape Round 63 of snow and cold. But, for various reasons, the tropical vacation wasn’t to be this year.
Since I needed to take time off, both for my own mental health and to keep from maxing out on vacation accrual, I went ahead with my scheduled time off.
Last Monday, the week ahead seemed like a huge stretch of time — ample time to get a whole bunch of projects done and leave some time for being lazy.
But I blinked, and the week was gone. Oh, I got a few things done (more on that later) and even managed a long birthday-Valentine weekend away with Bryan, but it all seemed to go by in a blur.
And here it is, Monday morning, and I’m back at work. Did I really have a vacation, or was it just a dream?