Lilo is in rehab. Paris is in prison. And I have to go to work. And we should all be getting our freedom in roughly 28 days. Well, slightly less than that for Paris assuming she behaves herself. And really 28 days is a guess for Lilo. It isn't liked she called and scheduled a 'first night out of rehab' drinking binge with me or anything. But I think rehab is 28 days. That's what it was for Sandra Bullock in that movie – 28 days.
Anyway, back to [or initially to] the point. In just 28 - 24 hour time spans from now, I will be winging my way across the Atlantic to the balmy mid winter weather on a little island called New Zealand.
Vacations are nice. Vacations are lovely. Vacations are beach chairs and hotel rooms and pictures of people with vague scenery behind them. This is more than a vacation. This is freedom.
Work has become my prison. It is my fault. I let it happen. I let the demand for my time and my services and my skills become so all consuming that it appears people can no longer get through a day without calling me. For those of you who don't know me well, that may sound arrogant. I assure you it is not. I have no extraordinary super powers nor am I privy to rare and elusive information not available to the general population. It is just seems that somehow, people have decided that I hold the answers. All of them. And that I am the only one who does.
If you work with me, please don't be offended. I understand that it is easier to call me in almost every case because I can point you in the right direction faster which saves every one time and hassle. I enjoy doing that for all of you. I really do. It is just that there are so many of you and only one of me and (and this is the real kicker) it isn't the only thing I do. If I am Wonder Woman, someone tell me where I parked the invisible jet because I sure don't remember how I got here.
New Zealand is a breath of fresh air, literally and figuratively. I am jumping on a plane and off the hamster wheel. I will focus for hours on mountain trails and Maori rituals instead of file clean up and daily reports. I will get up early for sunrises on the coast and stay up late for wine and dinner with new friends. I will drive on the left side of the road and take long lunches at local cafes. I will wonder what time (and day) it is only because it will be amusing to see if I can figure it out (what with the whole crossing the international date line thing). No work email. No cell phone calls. No work. For nearly two whole weeks – no work. Relaxing will become my work and I intend to be a workaholic.
So the next 28 days will feel like a rehabilitation of sorts. Learning to give away my responsibilities. Learning to let go of pet projects and just not worry about whether someone else is going to mess it up. And teaching others not to rely so heavily on the fact that I will pick up the phone at 7:00 at night and yes I will still be in the office and can bring them a key because they forgot theirs and can't lock up. At the end of the next 28 days of 'work rehab', I will have shed all my work and be able to step on a plane without the world on my shoulders (which is good because I'm pretty sure they wouldn't let me carry it on even if I could get it through security).
So rehab, and then a pilgramage. To find myself again. And when I come back – a new me or at least some reappearance of a former youthful and exuberant me. And as for work, we will see….we will just see. Maybe I will be cured and won't have to return to rehab ever again.
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