Then I’m off work for a week.
There was a time when the build up to vacation was exciting. I’d fight sleep to dream about the moment my feet hit the ground there. I’d distract myself throughout the day trolling for ideas about what to do.
But today, I’ve given myself too much responsibility to feel anything but terror. People are expecting things from me and I have to get them done tomorrow. If I don’t get them done, then I need to put the ball in the right court. If I miss something, I’ll return with my head on the chopping block.
Of course, none of this is true. I’m not as important or indispensable as I think I am. Most people probably won’t realize I’m gone, those that do will probably forget just as quickly, and whatever fires do erupt will certainly be less painful than the beating I’m putting myself through now.