“Be careful what you wish for it just may come true” Truer words were never spoken. I know when I worked a regular 9-5 or 8:30 to 4:30 (and not a second over) as the case was, the 10 vacation days were a blessing and a curse. The 10 days represented freedom, you could lie in bed and not see the sky for 10 whole days, you could sleep undisturbed until the day after tomorrow if you wished, forbes you no longer had to battle early morning traffic and you laughed in the face of others who were struggling to stay awake at work while you were on some beach sipping Pina colada.
And then day 11 came when you had to return to the grunge and grime of the office, you could no longer dress as you pleased or wake up at wealth4living 3 in the afternoon or stay up until the cows came home. Day 11 signaled a time of bitterness because you had to work and those that still had their 10 days you envied. By day 12 you started dreaming of working from home, of having the money to be able to live the life of an idle rich meilleurscasino and then you started to look at your sick days (for those of you not from a former colonial island, most employees count their sick days as part of their vacation days, note I said employees). Anywhoo you start thinking that ‘post vacation depression’ is a valid illness and therefore treat yourself to a ‘sick’ day or two to help ease the pain of being thrust back into ‘9to5ing’.
And then you somehow lose your job, and instead of the 10 days you previously guarded and stroked and called your ‘precious’ you now have a yawning chasm of late night ‘non9to5ing’ depression. You start wishing for the hustle and bustle or you start wishing for the hustle and bustle to be contained to home so that you can somehow incorporate sleeping until 3 in the afternoon with earning a salary and sipping on a Pina colada.