I am a workaholic. I regularly work 80 hours per week, and I'm always on call. I can get an hour or so off by calling my assistant and asking him to cover the phones, but that's pretty much the extent of the breaks that I get.
...And I love it. I wouldn't trade my job or any of my responsibilities for anything. I built this company from the ground up, and I plan to continue to pour my soul into it.
Anyway, my husband and family have been insisting that I need a break. I didn't really disagree, but my idea of a break was different from theirs. I wanted to take a few days off and lay on the couch. My husband wanted to take a vacation.
I hate vacations.
I like being at home. I like my bed, my things and my dogs. I like to lay on my couch, eat off my plates and have cell service all the time.
These are things that don't happen when you're driving across the country and back in 9 days.
That was my husband's idea of a relaxing break.
To be fair, it was a nice trip that ended at the Grand Canyon. The Grand Canyon was incredible. It was worth the drive and the stress. I was worth the anxiety and the long hours. It was amazing.
However, the so called "good idea" that was the vacation included the phone systems at work going down as a result of the Sandy who hit almost 2,000 miles away from us, my husband getting hit by a car (he's fine), learning that I really dislike the American Southwest, eating a bunch of highly recommended restaurants that were terrible, and a whole lot of altitude sickness.
It was worth it, but I didn't do much for my opinion of vacations in general. Next time, I'm sticking with my couch and my pup. I cannot go wrong with those two.
As always, it's hip to be square (and more exhausted post-vacation than pre), kids.