My summer vacation ended this morning at 9:00 a.m. Actually, it ended before that, because I got to work twenty minutes early. I hate the fact that vacation is over for another year.
Not that I dislike my job. Working as a minister is about the best job in the world. I don’t have to punch a time clock. I have very little worry about getting seriously hurt on the job. Like most ministers, my benefits include a certain amount of flex-time and flexiplace. And, best of all, I’m helping to make the world a better place (at least, that sometimes happens, on the good days).
Nor do I have any regrets about how I spent my vacation. Visiting my sister and my cousin and my aunt and uncle; cat-sitting in Cambridge; even cleaning the house — these were perfect ways to spend my vacation time.
Nor am I one of those people who wants to retire as soon as possible. I hope to keep working until I drop dead. I like working, I am not good with too much leisure time, I like the purpose and meaning that a job brings to life.
In spite of all this, the day that vacation is over is always an unpleasant shock. In a few days, I’ll be back in the swing of things, and all will be well again. But right now, it’s the worst day of the year.