It’s Friday, the last day of my week off. With the Kinderbesten returning from school at about 3pm, my week off effectively ends there. Inevitably, I’ve been reflecting on whether my time off worked.
I took the week off as a bit of a reset. After everything that had happened this year, I wanted some extra time to myself so I could work out what life looked like for me now. I didn’t have a grand plan as such; just an instinct that a week off was the right thing to do.
I did some of the things I wanted to do; ran out of time for others. I was sick, so I had some downtime, but not in the way I’d intended. I watched some TV, but didn’t get the level of binge-watching in that I thought I might. I’m left thinking that the week off wasn’t the awesome, inspiring break it perhaps should have been. I’m left thinking that a week off work should be like the best Christmas present ever, given the alternative of getting up every day and going to work. I’m left thinking that my week off didn’t work.
But then I realised something: holidays often feel awesome because they’re a change from dull and tedious daily life. And my daily life isn’t dull and tedious. Sure, it’s somewhat repetitive, and it’s often tiring, but it’s by no means awful. My job isn’t awful either. Having the time off has made me realise that my week off wasn’t awesome because the rest of my life is already pretty awesome. My life has it’s low points and its highlights, but overall it’s pretty well balanced.
So, I guess my week off worked after all.