I am sitting on the patio of Margaritaville in Ocho Rios, Jamaica. It occurred to me last night that my blackberry-free, 30-degree weather vacation in paradise is almost over, and I have since been plagued by the thought of returning home to snow, freezing cold, and work. Back to reality in four days- oh, the horror!
It took me nearly a week to detox from my addiction to time. During the first few days here, I kept asking what time it was, until finally one day Cory responded with, "why does it matter? You're on vacation!" Back home, I am checking the time almost obsessively. 10:30 am- time to drive to work, 11:00 am- time to open the restaurant, 2:15 pm- time to close up the restaurant and clean up, 2:30 pm- lunch, errands, possibly a nap on the couch at work, move my car off 5th street before 3:30 so it won't get towed...4:30 pm- time to set up for dinner, 9:30 pm (most weekdays)- clean up, close up, drive home, 10:30 pm- have the cats eaten? feed the cats, shower, Skype before its too late in Jamaica, sleep, repeat. On the weekends I add in time for banking, cleaning piles of laundry lumped on my bedroom floor, grocery shopping, cooking, etc., etc. These past few days have been filed with the joy of (not having to) do anything. It's healing.
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