I was only in California for four days, but my job gives me two (or maybe three now?) weeks of vacation. I’m not certain, because we’re a small company, and our HR department is a desk calendar next to the fax machine where the employees note their days off.
I decided it would be a good idea to take off some extra days upon my return to the east coast to do some spring cleaning and gardening. I’m going back to work on Friday so that I don’t have to deal with a week’s worth of missing stuff on a busy Monday.
But today, I’m free to do what I want, any old time.
Between cleaning, gardening, exploring the Hudson Valley, or just sitting around drinking wine from Sonoma, I can’t decide what to do. Sitting on the computer going through the 500 blog posts in my reader sounds like fun in theory, but I’m pretty sure if I go to every blog in a row, you’re all going to get the same comment. “Sounds great! Sorry I missed it!” Works for most stories, unless someone happened to write about the death of his or her grandmother or getting laid off or something.
I just got up to blow my nose, because while I was away, my cat took the liberty of leaving her hair and dander on every corner of the cottage in protest of my absence. Now I’m having a major allergy attack. It would seem that my choice has been made for me: I need to clean. But getting up from the chair made me feel dizzy, so I’m just going to go back to bed, lying on my hands to keep them from itching my eyes.
Nine times out of ten, when I have to make a choice, I choose “nap.”
UPDATE: I took the nap. It was glorious. I promised myself that if I clean out my closet, I’ll get to take Nap: Part II, and if I finish weeding under the lilac bush, I’ll get to take Nap: the Revenge.
