As I’m writing this, I should be boarding a plane home from vacation. Should . What I’m doing instead, what I’ve been doing all week, is working.
I mean, there are worse things, sure, and our reasons for delaying this vacation until the end of the year were solid. Still, it hurts.
Like, I should be somewhat tanned, slightly rested, and maybe a little ready (for what, I have no idea). Instead, I’m four days into one of the busiest weeks I can remember. Four days in and the next three weeks will be even busier.