Shortest Vacation Ever

It figures that right on the Sunday before my week off I get a call and have to come in to work five hours. It was really necessary, so I won’t complain and it wasn’t that bad. Especially since I don’t have to work tomorrow in which case I would have been really pissed.

I still have to do one little thing tomorrow and then I can relax. Or try to relax. Or whatever. It should involve sleeping in, watching TV and pasta salad. My expectations are pretty low when it comes to vacation. I have a stack of books, a stack of DVDs, a list of things to do (mostly fun things), and all in all that makes me a happy girl.

Today I realized once more that I’m incredibly good at seeing the bright side. When I got the call from work I was actually thinking that now I would at least be able to get the documents I need for our taxes that were still in my desk at work. Also, I got to drive and listen to Rilo Kiley in the car. And now I don’t feel so bad for having a week off, because I worked on Sunday. Which is the stupidest thing ever to think, because why should I feel bad when I take a week of vacation? My contract says I get six weeks of vacation plus the four days still left over from last year, so why the freaking hell should I feel bad for taking them?

I have a strange work moral. I should get off it.

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