Back in January, when I returned to
work after a week’s vacation in Florida, people bombarded me with questions:
“Did you rent jet skis?” “Did you go para-sailing?” “Did you jog on the beach?”
“Did you use the hotel gym every morning?” The answers to these questions were:
“No,” “Are you insane?” “Oh, you’re funny,” and, “What’s a gym?”
It dawned on me that people have two
very different views of vacation. Some folks think vacation is an opportunity
to do all sorts of adventurous activities that aren’t normally available at
home. These people fill each vacation day with so much stuff, their daily
schedule is as busy as a presidential candidate visiting a primary state,
except with more opportunities to get injured.
If I took that approach to my
vacation, when I returned home from vacation I would need a vacation.
Other people, like me, have the
opposite view of vacation. We see it as an opportunity to actively engage in
the one thing that is not possible to do the rest of the year: nothing. To
folks like me, vacation is the once-a-year chance to relax, do nothing, think
about nothing, and find out if it’s really true that moss will grow on a human
being if he stays motionless for seven days straight.
Here are questions my co-workers
should have asked me: “How many naps did you take?” “How many times did you go
in the hot tub?” and, “How many times did you eat out at a restaurant?” The
answers are: “Six,” “Fourteen,” and, “I can’t count that high.” (“I can’t count
that high,” also is the answer to the question: “How much weight did you
gain?”)
Now, I understand that some people
will point out that if you’re going to do nothing during vacation, you might as
well do nothing at home and save all the money spent on air fare, rental car,
hotels, and over-priced tourist trap restaurants. However, I’ve tried that in
years past, and it doesn’t work. First, outdoor pools and hot tubs are not
quite as enjoyable in Connecticut in January as they are in Florida in January.
Call me a wimp, but going outside in my bathing suit when it’s 16 degrees is
not my cup of tea.
More importantly, when you vacation at
home with the desire to do nothing for a week, it lasts about half a day. At
home, all those zillions of chores and projects you’ve been putting off are
staring you in the face. And you can’t use the excuse that you have to go to
work tomorrow so it wouldn’t make sense to start a project now. A little voice
in the back of your head keeps saying, “C’mon, you should paint the bedroom.
There’s plenty of time.” Or, “C’mon, you should fix that squeaky step on the
stairs.” Or, “C’mon, now is the perfect time to replace the kitchen faucet that
drips.” (On second thought, that little voice may not be coming from the back
of your head, it may instead be coming from across the breakfast table.)
Also, vacationing at home means you
are dangerously close to your place of work. It’s a sure bet that at some point
during the week a co-worker will call and plead, “Can you please come in — just
for a few hours — and help us fix this problem? Please?!!” That scenario does
not happen when you’re out of state.
So, although some of my co-workers
were puzzled that my vacation goal was to do nothing, when I returned to work I
was refreshed and raring to go. And that gung-ho attitude lasted quite a while
this year — almost half a day.
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