Eleven Whole Days

I knew that today would drag: the last work day before vacation always does. But eventually, time passed, and I find myself looking at 11 consecutive days off. ELEVEN!

My brother arrives Wednesday morning, and I decided a while back to save enough vacation to take the whole week off, so that I could get ready without stressing the night before. Then we get Monday off, since Christmas is on Sunday; he leaves Monday afternoon, and I'm taking my last vacation day on Tuesday, so I can try to straighten myself out for the return to reality.

Ugh. Reality. Why does the working grind have to be reality? Why can't I win the lottery, retire, and fill my time doing what I want to, on my own schedule or lack thereof? Who's in charge here--I would like to have a word.

But anyway. I am going to enjoy the stuffing out of the next 11 days.