There were six weeks in my holiday, and I chose to use three days’ worth wisely.
My brain really does work with deadlines. When confronted with the vast space of and unfilled five weeks, my brain doesn’t know what to do with itself. When there are only three days left until I go back to work, everything kicks into gear and wants to be done all at once. There was the ruthless tidying frenzy, the trip to the wineries. The socialising (meagre though it was; I was a real dud when it came to being a butterfly these holidays). There was the managing of the finances. There was the eventual picking up of the first volume of The Sandman series which I’d promised myself I’d read over the entire break. There was the new piano delivered to our house. There wasn’t much playing, as it was only delivered today.
This also must be the first break I’ve ever had where only a few nights were seen past midnight. With plenty of time during the day, there’s no need to stay up that late. And yet the closer I get to going back to work, the later I stay up.
I start preparing for work after the sun sets on the day before I go back. I stay up hideously late because the later it gets, the more ideas I keep getting. I’ll only stop when the laptop battery goes flat. In fifteen minutes, apparently.
