After the holiday
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It doesn't feel like I've had a holiday. It's been two weeks since I returned to work, so it's probably normal to feel that way now. But I didn't feel like I'd had a holiday by the end of it either. The office shut down for the last week of December and I had ten whole days to do as I pleased before I had to come back. I'm aware of the beginning of that period and very aware of the end of it. It's the bits in between that are hazy.
I know I went to various social engagements. I know I spent time with friends and family members. I remember one or two rest days in between. But I can't account for the others. It's as if whole days just disappeared. Work finished. There was a weekend. There was another weekend. Then I went back to work. I'm vaguely aware of things that happened. I'm sure I went to places and did things. I know I enjoyed those things. But I feel reasonably certain that I didn't do five days' worth of things. And I still had things left to do afterwards.
I know there were days in between those weekends. By simple calendar rules, it would make sense that since all of the other weekends have days separating them, this one would too. And despite my inability to remember them, I'm going to give their having happened the benefit of the doubt. Regardless of how happy I am about the situation, a new year has begun and I'm back at work.
I'm not annoyed about being back at work. Granted, a lot of the time I could imagine various other things I would rather be doing, but for the most part I do like my job. I'm simply miffed that the holiday season went by so fast that I wasn't able to do all of the things I had hoped to do during my time off. I have various hobbies and interests I like to indulge myself in and friends I had intended to spend time with. Either through busyness or the theft of time, I didn't get the chance.
At the start of any given year, many people's thoughts turn to resolutions. It seems typical to make it one's mission to give something up, lose weight or try some other fancy that might continue into February, but in most cases won't see spring. I've never been one for resolutions. I'm sure there are things I could stand to give up, but there is nothing that I have any particular desire to deprive myself of. My vices tend to be small and harmless enough that whether or not I continue with them is of little consequence.
Instead of giving something up, I've decided to get something done; several somethings in fact. I've set myself a number of different goals—nothing too unwieldy, but still more than I've achieved in previous years. The goals range from grand schemes such as saving money ready to buy a house next year to smaller ones like reading a certain number of books during the year. Chances are this means my holidays and weekends will continue to fly by. The hope is that I'll have more to show for them.