Why going on vacation in September is both heaven and hell at the same time
First of all: I know it's a luxury to be able to go on vacation. That said: if you go, September is really lovely and hell at the same time. Until you're gone, that is, after that life is good and exactly how you like it. Freckles, waking up startled from that book that crashes onto your nose as you fall asleep and alcohol at lunch. What I say: exactly how I like my life. But until you go...
Not entirely though, because the summer vacation (as I used to affectionately call it) has quite a few advantages. The rush hour is not a rush hour, where I normally struggle over the A2 to the editorial office, now it's a sort of empty circuit with just me and my clunker. At the office, the phone hardly rings, you don't really receive urgent emails, and you finish projects that seemed as high as the Himalayas. At lunch, you settle down on the terrace at the corner, because you need sun too and you actually have a table, because there are only four of you in the office and you don't need to reserve. The gym is empty, which means there's space under the shower. No one squeezing the last bit of oat milk out of the carton in front of you. Everything is peaceful and quiet, for now. Until the rest comes back.
Which is of course great fun, right, don't get me wrong, I love my colleagues and all their decibels. Only they are bursting and buzzing and bursting with energy and all sorts of ideas that had to happen yesterday, because today is already quite late. And you (I) check my ticket in the system to see if I accidentally put the wrong date in my calendar. We are just less synced than we normally are. They occasionally say that you must be ready for vacation (because you look a bit worn out) and you (I) squeeze out one last sprint at the office and try to hide that you fall asleep on the couch every evening after dinner, because you are a bit tired. What I say: not so synced.
At the same time, it's heaven again, because everyone is back and you still get to go. So you can't complain about that and in the end, it's just all's well that ends well. If you're reading this, my colleagues are temporarily free from me, I'm probably emptying half of my suitcase again because it's too heavy. Already looking forward to it, see you in three weeks. Fresh and fruity, promised.
