It’s that time of year again.
Summer is the best season there is. This may be my personal opinion on the matter, but I do believe there’s some degree of universal truth to it as well: the weather is warm, the days are long, people are friendlier and happier, and the clothing is less encumbering.
Some people are awesome at planning vacations.
These are the people who research their destinations exhaustively to discover the hottest sites to visit. The people who book things months in advance to ensure they don’t miss out on those activities that always fill up and sell out.
These are the people who know ahead of time exactly the type of vacation experience they want, and make a near part-time job of scouring tour guides and soliciting knowledgeable friends and colleagues to transform the trip of their dreams into reality.
I’m not one of those people. Not even close.
No, it doesn’t involve an awesome vacation, but more on that in a bit.
I’m having a “working summer” this year. This isn’t unlike how I often have “working weekends”, during which I get caught up on all the errands, chores, and other adult-life necessaries I didn’t do during the week because I was busy writing.
Full-time jobs are hell on both writing time and fun, relaxing weekend time, though I guess we all need to suffer a bit for our art.
But I’ve currently got some BIG tasks that need doing.
Hence the working summer.