My holidays are half over! Well, this round, anyway. I still have two more weeks this summer and a week at Christmas. Seniority doesn’t count for much where I work, we’re not unionized or anything, but they are VERY generous with the holidays.
So far, I had a birthday, went to my knitting group, did a whole lot of knitting and finished some long-dormant projects, met with a counsellor and went up to Bracebridge to see a friend’s band with Thing One. Nothin’ flashy. Thing One has come back to Peterborough and is visiting for a few days, which is lovely. This coming week there’s the annual baseball tournament (which I’m not sure I’m going to go to), a doctor’s appointment so I can find out why my stupid joints are so stiff all the time, and a multi-purpose trip to Hamilton. It’s multipurpose in that I’m a) seeing the little fellas; b) drinkin’ with mah bro; and c) attending my sister-in-law’s Stitchapalooza night, which sounds like it involves drinking, knitting and eating, which are certainly three of MY very favourite things.
It’s all a little hollow at the moment. I’m feeling a bit empty; a bit “what next”; a bit “what have I done”, but I think I’m on the right course. I’ve been neglecting the gym this week, and smoking a little bit, but I think I can get back into my routine when I get back to work next week. Holidays are for lying around and doing what you want to do, especially holidays that don’t involve plans and travelling. I think sometimes trips are more stress than they’re worth. I don’t like itineraries and travel connections, motion sickness, and strange beds. Accommodating travel companions can be stressful as well. I like “staycations”. I know the sheets are clean, I know how the coffeepot works and checkout time is never.
So, I have one more week of doing whatever the hell I want, which is fun, but it’s kind of bad for me. Once I get back to my routine, it’s gym-work-no smoking-go check out the Unitarians like you said you would. I’m so leery and shy about going to church. Friend Barb told me that when she was a kid, they would give newcomers a green cup at coffee hour so that parishioners would know to talk to them. I don’t want the green cup!