I'm sitting at a Starbucks in Dublin on a Saturday night. It's not exactly where I want to be, but I'm in the city until my flight tomorrow morning (Sunday). Me and my friends have gone our separate ways, and here I am, trying to catch up on the work I've put off for the past three weeks. I have a wedding to finish editing, school work to start planning, and of course copy to write for the book project I'm working on. So, THIS IS THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY TRIP. FUN.
Diving back in to the ordinary, the flow of life, is really hard for me. It's hard for me to get out of (flashback to sleepless nights pondering work), and it's hard for me to get back into. You know me; I LOVE to work. I love drowning in checklists and a deadline sometimes feels like Christmas morning. All that said, I hate, hate, getting started. Sometimes I'd rather give up my phone than start writing a newsletter. Oftentimes I'd rather do ANYTHING other than lesson plan. But when I'm in the moment doing those things, I can't get enough of it.
My summer is far from over, but my break from responsibility has officially ended, I'm excited for the next few months as they hold some amazing moments for me, but I'm also terrified. Terrified that the time I took off, the time I took to myself, will undermine those moments. So as I think about my time off before work starts in August, I'm both excited and nervous. I'm ecstatic to be back in a routine (I miss my calendar!), but a little stressed about just how much work has to be done in a short amount of time. Can I do it? Duh. Is it going to be hard? Depends on how much poolside time I allow myself (spoiler: it'll be too much).
Before that happens, though, I'm going to grab a pint, read Nabokov's Lolita by the river, and take advantage of a night alone in Europe. The best part is, by the time you read this, I'll be happily passed out in my bed at home, dreaming about absolutely nothing because I"ll be jet lagged beyond belief.