Today is my first day back at work. Yay. Except not really. It just makes me realize that I need to win a jackpot sooner rather than later (even though I don’t even participate in any lotteries, so chances of that happening are even less than those at winning an actual lottery). Because I don’t wanna get back to work yet. Or at all. Or ever. I rather spend my days doing a whole lotta nothing.
Which is pretty much equal to the amount of things that happened in my three weeks leave. Guess the ship doesn’t sink when you leave. But it sure doesn’t move either. Although that does make it easier to pick…right…back…up…where…I…left.
The day AFTER vacations is always the worst. Not just because you have three weeks mail to plow through (although, admittedly, I’m the type of idiot who checked her mail about 20 times during my vacation to semi-clean-up-spam-shizzle to avoid pilesandpilesandpiles of plowing). And not just because there’s always that slight anxiety at ‘*what if something went wrong. What if I have nothing to do. What if I have EVERYTHING to do?*’. Nono. The thing I hate most about the vacation-return is the question-repeat-parade.
‘How was your holiday?’
‘Did you get all the rest?’
‘Did you go anywhere?’
Literally everyone opens with that, when you return. And though I appreciate the ‘concern’ (or general interest) – I do NOT appreciate having to defend my vacation time and again.
‘Vacation was great. We stayed home. It was awesome.’
Staying home, after all, is APPARENTLY the WORST thing you can do during your vacation. Colleague after colleague has to pick up their jaw from the floor at that simple notion that though I had 21 glorious days of freedom – I did not spend ANY of them at a tropical resort. Ski slope. Camping. Or hotel ANYWHERE.
‘But did you do….thisorthat?’
‘And did you go…thereorthere?’
‘Didn’t you see…somethingorother?’
My completely lovely and intensely delicious vacation consisted of maybe 3/4 outings and for the rest included A WHOLE LOTTA NOTHING. There was food. Movies. Series (I FINALLY finished Vikings!). Afternoons of sleepsleepsleeping while the boyfriend watched the Olympics. More food. And it was exactly as the doctor ordered.
Yet my colleagues seem to think that a vacation should be just as much of a planned-full, capped out and filled to the brim ordeal as every day life. And that NOT going on a holiday somewhere-that’s-not-here or spending time doing things-that-are-not-at-home means that I can’t possibly call my vacation succesful.
Well sorry guys and girls.
You’re talking to the girl that thinks travelling is a chore. And intensely bad for my mental state. And nothing to be desired in corona-time. Talking to the girl that maxes out her human-capacity after 1 day of intense people-contact and rather recharges 3 days afterwards than just keep working on depleted social batteries. Talking to the girl who, Well. Is a homebody. TO THE MAX. And also the girl who has a talent for doing as little as humanly possible.
I think I was a sloth in my former life.
Seriously. I LOVE doing nothing.
Whether I’m doing it poolside at a beachresort or right here in my backyard:
Filling my days with doing the most absolute amount of nothing is EXACTLY my preferred vacation. Sorry not sorry!