Masterpieces Serving Maximum Sentences

I really should be thinking more about when I return to work in the New Year. I haven't been because I've not yet had to. I'm off two weeks exactly, today, choosing to start my vacation with our trip to New York City and just trying to coast after that and pretty much doing so for the most part. (This is one of the photos my wife took.)

I hate taking days off I guess because I have such an exaggerated sense of my own importance. I expect wherever it is I'm working at the time to just fall apart from its own internal entropy in my absence. I've not yet fully understood why that has yet to happen (and you can only imagine my disappointment). After all, I'm  the straw that stirs the drink. Just ask me.

I take just enough vacation to keep the human resources people off my boss' backside because of 'excess vacation balances' which is the type of phrase you should find in a WPP handbook someplace, right up there with 'I just got my Keurig coffee maker and now they have the Keurig Vue." (you thought I was kidding?).

Sadly, I've discovered on this hiatus (like that word? It's worth extra points in Scrabble) that I don't like what I do for a living anymore. Don't get me wrong, I like getting paid because where I live bets the heck out of under a railroad trestle by at least two to one but I used to agree with Noel Coward that 'work should be more fun than fun.' It's not anymore, so taking time off is easier than fighting with the people who run the operation, especially since I can't possibly even break-even much less win.

Just before they get really sick of me or (worse yet) wonder what their days might be like without ever seeing me again, I grab a couple of weeks out of the calendar and disappear. This time next week will be my first day back at work and I'll be carping about that as well. Put me in a leaky rowboat and I'd drill a second hole to let the water out. You're welcome.
-bill kenny