… is not just that they end, but that they take place. They are a false escape, a phony freedom. Because you come back into an office with piled-up work that you’ve essentially put off for the time while you’ve been away. This is not an attempt at profound observation, just a recognition of the way things are — magnified moreso in light of the fact that this is the first vacation I’ve taken in two years where I’ve had a job to return to once I got back.
Thus, attempting to disseminate stuff heaped pyramid-like onto one’s desk is made all the more difficult when one’s mind is still wandering around a 1,000-year-old Toltec landmark of similar if much more well-engineered design, such as this one found in the town of Tula (click to biggify):
And in my case it’s not just pressing tasks, but the without-warning surprise addition of extra work thanks to the transfer of one of our editorial team to another department.
Lastly, in the Welcome Home category of Sometimes It’s The Littlest Things That Can Do The Most Damage, my first bike ride home from work (after a 10-day recess; my longest of the year!) was brought to a halt on Jefferson Boulevard just east of La Brea Avenue thanks to a flat caused not by your typical nail or shard of glass, but by this little fella that I tweezed out of the tire tread lest it puncture the replacement tube I installed:
Back to life, back to reality.
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