Back to the monastery

I’m on vacation.

Well … not now I’m not. I’m actually not on vacation for another five months.

But I’ve requested and approved time off for a vacation, which counts for something.

The timing is around Suzi’s and my 20th wedding anniversary. We used to talk about going back to Jekyll Island Club in Georgia — site of our honeymoon and 10th-anniversary trip — but we’re leaning toward somewhere else, once we figure out where that somewhere else will be.

Ideally, we’d finally take that trip to Switzerland we’ve been talking about. The country recently lifted its COVID restrictions, which doesn’t thrill the friend of ours who lives there (can’t say I blame her), but here’s hoping things will be going well by the time we’d be going.

Assuming we go somewhere more than driving distance, it’ll probably be the first time we’ve been on a plane or passenger train since COVID began. As long as things don’t get appreciably worse over the next several months, I think I’d be OK with it.

We’ve gotten all our shots, will follow any masking rules in place and wouldn’t plan on going anywhere that’s basically a cluster looking for people to infect. Wearing a mask while flying or riding a train for hours isn’t my idea of a good time, but I can deal with it.

I’m going to need new headphones, though — something wireless because my new phone doesn’t have a jack.

Only after a week of holiday

— No Love For Fatties (@noluvforfatties) February 8, 2022

I’m the opposite. I sleep best on vacation.

Not that I sleep more — if I ever sleep eight hours, it’s a lot, and it’s usually because exhaustion from previous days has finally caught up with me — but sleep best.

Why wouldn’t I, when my worst worry is what fun thing I’m going to do the next day? Sure, if we’re supposed to go to a ballgame, I’ll worry about the weather until I know everything is going to be fine, but other than that, what’s there to be worried about?

Whereas at home, I’m usually worrying about something in the back of my mind, and sometimes I take it to bed with me. I usually fall asleep quickly, but it sometimes arrives in the hours before I’m supposed to get up.

I’m not fully awake, but I’m too … aware … to sleep restfully.

I’m just a worrier, and the curse of the worrier is not just worrying, but that the worrying usually doesn’t amount to anything, that what I’m worried about usually works itself out somehow.

But when you’re a worrier, the next potential problem is always just around the corner.

When I last wrote about the “vacation monastery,” the lesson I wanted to learn was to find something to look forward to every day. I’m OK at it — Suzi’s a lot better — but I wonder if there’s another lesson I didn’t notice, the one saying not to worry so much.

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