More Trouble With Trips
When I woke up this morning to my alarm clock (the first time in nine days), I felt the most intense lack of desire to be alive. It was as if I had awoken just before the good part of a really great dream. This, of course, wasn't the case. I was simply waking up to my first day back to work after a week long vacation. My job isn't that bad. I don't know why I dread it so much. Waking up and going to work is always a chore -- mostly because at work you are doing things that you are told to do instead of what you choose to do -- but, it's even more of a chore when it comes after not having to wake up and go to work for over a week. Florida -- where I went on vacation -- was fantastic. I did a lot of nothing. I joined my dad early in the morning to watch the sunrise. I laid by the pool. I swam in the ocean. I repeated this most days. I had some amazing dinners with my grandpa and his wife, my dad and his wife, and my step-sister and her daughter. (It just occurred to