Yesterday, I took a vacation.
No, I didn’t go anywhere. I didn’t do anything. In fact, I even brought my bag of work home with me. But, somewhere between putting the kids to bed and the Carolina-Duke game, I neglected to open my laptop bag and pull out my work. Sure, I talked to a parent on the phone at 6:30pm for about 8 minutes. No big. My husband and I cooked dinner together. The children went to bed with relative ease. The night felt blissful.
I am transferring my blogosphere over to a new dns server. I decided to watch the game and try to figure out this new high-tech stuff instead after the kids went to bed. I did not figure out the new high-tech stuff. Once I figure out what in the heck a PHP is and why it’s not turn on in my browser, maybe I can communicate with it, but that didn’t happen last night. You know what, though? Work didn’t happen either. Maybe I stayed at work until almost 5 p.m. and almost no one else’s car still existed in the parking lot, but I didn’t do any work at home other than that phone call.
I just tinkered on the computer, adding apps to what will soon become the new layout and trying to learn how to use the FTP server. I watched Caroline beat Duke 78-66. I researched tracing IP addresses. My children slept. Work failed to beckon me. I felt renewed energy. At the end of the night, I even found myself closer to my husband. We stayed up too late bonding with each other, but we needed that time.
No exotic drinks. No palm trees. No hotel. Just a night at home spent doing anything but work. Maybe that’s not your idea of a vacation, but for me it was almost heaven.