Having hit late November and with no sign of a mystery man sweeping me off my feet to a European vacation in my near future, I realized I had vacation days. A bunch of them. And just like the expression, I was told to use it or lose. My vacation, that is.
In my haste to use the few benefits granted to my underpaid career, I took off Tuesday, Wednesday and the Monday following Thanksgiving. That’s nearly a week of sleeping in, wearing sweatpants, and hanging out in front of my fridge alternating between leftovers and booze.
Imagine my delight when my phone woke me up at 9:40 this morning. It was a producer, of course, who suddenly needed all of my attention to put together a morning show segment with one of my editors. And then the bloggers started emailing. And another television producer. And then the radio host started in.
So much for sleeping in.
I wrapped up as much as I could and closed my laptop at two. It was time for my faux-cation to begin. I threw too many shoes into my weekender, not enough shirts, and caught a cab to Grand Central. I was that woman in the cab shouting at my assistant to forward an email to such and such before so and so left for the week.
But I made it. I’m back upstate in the good old Hudson Valley, spending quality time with the family. Oh, and sleeping in, wearing sweatpants, and hanging out in front of my fridge alternating between leftovers and booze. Considering me using.