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  • Writer's picturePF Legge

Working vacation.

Updated: Jun 11, 2021

In the annals of first world problems, getting used to being on vacation ranks right up there. But as the years pass it gets harder and harder to ignore the reality that when the time comes, turning off the internal clock is problematic. 28 years of having your day defined by an actual ringing bell perhaps makes it more difficult. And when it doesn’t sound, you cannot help but constantly wonder, no matter what you are doing, where you actually should be. This is disconcerting and in direct opposition to the idea of relaxing or ‘enjoying your vacation’ as you are expecting to or being told to do. (Especially by those who aren’t on vacation or those who don’t get the extended breaks I am lucky enough to get.) The early days then are filled with bike rides, workouts and writing sessions. The house is clean, the laundry is up to date and the dishes are done.

It is the writing that is taking over though as the primary activity. Editing the second book (which as of now, I like) and writing more of the short story that won’t end.

That and wrestling with the vagaries of Dell, Microsoft, Google, Hootsuite, MailChimp and Wix. For example, my copy of Word has disappeared and then reappeared on my laptop a couple of times. Its back today. WTF? Yesterday, it took twenty minutes just to get the programs open that I need to do this blog post. Like I need that. Muttering and cursing under my breath in Starbucks has become a part time job.

But, I am free of the bell. I can do what I want, within reason. And I thank my lucky stars for that. Sooner rather than later, I will be in a position to order my day more completely. Be an authrapraneur, or something, as they say.

Some short story prose:

The soldier who had shot him had been killed by a knife in the throat, thrown by his unit leader, Eris. He had not made a sound louder than a sleeping baby’s gurgle. The general alarm had not been given. But Rosh knew that if some sleepy soldier blundered on to their assault unit, the shit would fly in the wind. Really fly. Down the straight path between the tents they ran. ‘Man are these guys organized.’ Rosh thought once again. ‘I mean the care they took lining all the shit up. It isn't natural’. He hoped they stayed undiscovered. There were a lot of Eliti in this Camp. D’ael or not, if the alarm was sounded they weren't going to get out.

Honda Indy in Toronto next week! Thanks for the tickets Tom!

Be well!

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