Ever notice how time off from work has two definite, distinct sections? There's the Friday night-Hallelujah-I'm-outta-here rush, and then there's the Sunday oh-my-gosh-I'm-going-back-to-that-place-tomorrow letdown. It's like a bi-polar, maniacal, mood swing that there is no drug for. No wonder everybody in this country acts so crazy.
 This week, I took two days off from work to coincide with the lovely federal government's gift to the working person, Memorial Day, giving me a five-day vacation. I may not be thrifty with money, but, boy, can I stretch my vacation time!  Can I tell you how wonderful it was?  No, I don't think that I can. Suffice it to say that there was actually enough time for me to stop thinking about work completely. In fact, at this moment, as I write this the night before I go back, work is something of vague, but unpleasant, memory that my subconscious refuses to allow to come into sharper focus. 
 Alas, that sharper focus will hit the fan in precisely nine hours and forty-five minutes. Gone will be the blissful afternoon naps, the ability to read whole books in one sitting, naps at eleven in the morning, orgies of junk TV, and did I mention, naps? 
 It's not even that I hate my job. I don't really. I actually kind of like it. If you can get past the part about a large segment of the population hating your guts, it's really a pretty interesting profession. It's just that it's so fun to be lazy.  To not have to do anything that you don't really want to. (Well, except wait on your sixteen-year old, but that's another story. Really a tale for a dark and stormy night.)  
 Ah, well. I suppose that, in the end, work provides that structure and balance that is oh-so-important to us hearty Puritanical types. Yup, I'll probably be pretty darned structured by the end of this week. I can just about imagine what my workload will be right now. You see, a five-day vacation fits into the Puritan ethic so well, because you're punished for your pagan idleness as soon as your foot crosses the threshold of your job. No kidding. I'm not sure that I've unburied myself yet from my Christmas vacation.
 Well, now that I've begun to think about it, that blurry picture is getting pretty sharp-edged right about now. Think I'll go eat chocolate or something. Maybe take a nap. Junk TV, anyone?