1. I’m not working.
That’s a given for number one, right?
Attention, I’ve left the office and am focusing on me right now. I’ve done my best to make sure everything is covered while I’m gone, but if something unexpected comes up and you have a problem, you are going to have to figure out a way to deal with it on your own. There are many capable people back there that can help you out. Give them some credit and give them a call.
No matter how many times you email me, I’m probably not going to respond and this is the one time you can’t hold me accountable. Yeah, sure, unless I’m way out in the wilderness somewhere (and if you really knew me, you’d know that that is highly unlikely), I’m still sneaking looks at email and Twitter and Face Book, but you won’t know that. Are you really going to challenge me when I come back and tell you, “Ah, yeah, sorry, I tried but had no way of checking in every day. You wouldn’t believe how crappy the Internet connections are in ____. (Add any foreign country or small town in America here).”
By the way, if you guys really struggled so much without me, I think it is time you thought about giving me a raise. I’m obviously much more valuable than you or I previously thought.
2. I get to take even more naps.
Phew, sightseeing is hard work!
I love napping, it’s one of my favorite things to do and I do them just about every day. I usually take naps at work. It’s a daily ritual.
I quickly eat my lunch while catching up on current news, and then close my office door and sprawl out on my couch. (It’s a very tiny office, so if you are imagining Don Draper’s space with a big desk, a credenza with a full bar, and a couple of chairs and a couch, you are wrong. It’s more like Peggy’s office when she first started copywriting and had to squeeze into an old Xerox closet). There aren’t any windows that look out onto the general office space, so it is completely private. I’m in my little cocoon, and can nap in private for a good 10-15 minutes each day.
My naps tend to be a little longer when I am on vacation. When you’ve been out all day looking at ruins or visiting museums and churches you can feel completely drained by late afternoon. It’s easy to justify going back to your room for a little rest before dinner, and I usually do.
Recently I’ve taken to setting my alarm to limit the nap to an hour though. On more than one occasion my quick nap turned into a four to five hour snooze. I woke up more than a little disoriented (huh, it’s dark, where am I? Venice? Cleveland?), too exhausted to leave the room to get dinner, yet starving. I scrounged around for anything in my room that resembled food – a flattened and stale Cliff bar in my backpack, a packet of sugar from the coffee station, and the piece of chocolate left by the maid on my pillow – wolfed them down and crawled back into bed.
I find beach vacations to be the best! They’re basically just one big nap on the sand.
3. There’s always bacon at the breakfast buffet.
Do I need to say more?
4. I don’t have to clean the bathroom.
Or do the dishes, or take out the garbage, or…
Okay, I’m not a fan of housework. I’ll do it, but very reluctantly. I think it’s a deeply ingrained protest to my upbringing. An upbringing centered on three ideas:
- You missed a spot
We had the cleanest house of any of my friends, really. Ask my best friend from high school who walked in for the first time and gasped, “Oh my gosh, it’s so clean in here. Where’s all of your family’s stuff?” (And by stuff I think he meant all of the things that you’d find scattered throughout any “normal” person’s home: a stack of mail on the kitchen counter, someone’s gym shoes left by the front door, a piece of floss or a tissue in the wastebasket next to the toilet, or a copy of yesterday’s newspaper piled on the floor next to the Lazy Boy).
There was no stuff. It was neat and orderly. It’s what my family did. We were Polish. We cleaned.
Vacation time growing up was taken for really exciting adventures like, taking all of the good china and crystal out of the curio cabinet and washing them with a special mixture of water and vinegar to prevent streaking. Or maybe we’d spend a couple of days washing walls and baseboards. As a special day trip you might find us dusting off the cans of Cling Peaches or Campbell’s soup stored in the cellar. A real vacation adventure would be sweeping out the garage…or I should say vacuuming out the carpeted garage…but that’s a whole separate story that I really can’t get into right now.
Needless to say, I love coming back to a hotel room that has been tidied up by someone else. Mmm, a bed that has already been made (hospital corners are especially appreciated) and all my scattered bits of receipts, museum entry ticket stubs, tourist maps, and bits of small change neatly piled on the desk for me. So thrilling. Thanks!
5. I don’t have to go to the gym.
No, those aren’t love handles; I’m wearing a money belt!
I’m not a gym guy. Never have been and know that I never will be. I’ve had good intentions and tried in the past, but it’s just not in the cards for me. Sure I’ll go every once in a while to work off some nervous energy on the cross-trainer, or to try fool myself into thinking I am doing my body good after eating an entire frozen pizza the night before, but I can’t seem to get there regularly.
I’m never gong to have that body that all the young kids and gay men are sporting these days, and I’m over it. I don’t even understand where those V’s that start at your hips and point suggestively down to your crotch come from. Is it sit-ups? Is it leg lifts? If I can’t get them from reaching in the kitchen cabinet for a bottle of Vodka or from bending over to pick up my underwear from the bathroom floor, then so be it. I’m not going to stress out over it anymore.
On vacation…why even bother? I certainly get more exercise climbing ruins or hiking around the city all day than I would back home. Why even bother going down to the hotel gym or try to do laps in the pool? None of the people around me are ever going to see me again. I can let my gut hang out and who cares? Sure, there was a time when I hated the idea of taking my shirt off at the beach, but in my old age comes indifference. And anyway, if you are sitting there amused by the scrawny old guy with the gut, it’s not going to bother me, you’re not even in my radar, I’m too busy napping!
• I actually do identify a little with Peggy from Mad Men but unlike her, I haven’t been knocked up by my boss…screwed maybe.
•Just to clarify, that is really me in the last photo, but I’m not wearing a money belt…or am I?
• Here’s a bonus image. I found this when I was looking for a decent shot of bacon on Flickr.
The caption read: Rub Nipple. Get Bacon.