Wednesday, July 31, 2013

The Days are Getting Shorter

Ah, summer.  My absolute favorite time of year.  Absent obligations, I would happily spend every waking hour (and most sleeping hours) on a beach.  Unfortunately, the notion of assuming away obligations brings me back to Economics 101, in which every lesson began with “assume perfect competition.”  That’s one hell of an assumption.  It’s impossible – perfect competition doesn’t exist in nature.  Nor does a life without obligations.

The rub is that my “obligations” each summer seem to become more demanding in direct proportion to my increasing desire to do as little as possible. 
I have pretty much wasted the month of July (my favorite month within my favorite time of year.) Oh, I did a few things that were fun, but for the most part I worked – fulfilling job-related obligations, meeting the needs of tenants in my role as a part-time landlord, maintaining the family fleet, and doing what has felt like endless yard work. I went swimming exactly once.  And I own a beach house.  That’s just pathetic.

I remember, as a kid, counting down the days in June in anticipation of school vacation.  It was the ultimate gift – two and a half months of freedom!  Like clockwork, we would head for the lake the day after school ended.  There we would find my uncle, who each year would wait for precisely the right moment to deliver his line (around about June 22nd, for maximum effect): “Well, the days are getting shorter…” 

I wanted to kill him. 

At work, I am a victim of the Fortunate Dinosaur’s Paradox:  I’ve worked for the same firm for so many years that I’ve amassed an embarrassingly large number of earned vacation days; but my responsibilities prevent me from taking them in significant chunks.  In theory, I could take the entire months of July and August off.  In reality, were I to do so, I’d be spending the month of September on an unemployment line.  So instead, I typically take what I can, when I can; and dutifully check in via e-mail while I’m away.  I will be doing this next week.  Not exactly an exotic, off-the-grid safari, far from civilization, but I WILL be on that beach, dammit.

I wrote about this phenomenon a few years ago, in another forum.  In keeping with the cheesy journalistic tradition of posting “rerun” columns while on vacation, I will re-post my entry from August 17, 2009 here. I am following my own advice; so should you!  I’ll see you on the other side.

“No Excuses”
8/17/2009
This is for all my workaholic friends... you know who you are - all you good Company Men and Women. Monday morning bit pretty hard today, didn't it?  I know, I was there and I spoke with some of you.  There you were, huddled in your flourescent-lit office spaces, waiting for all those weekend corporate-network-security-patch pushes to finish up, when it hit you: it's August 17th!  It is late August!  And you've done nothing!  Nothing!   I saw the look on your faces - like you'd found a dead moth in your Starbucks latte.

You never saw it coming, did you?  You missed the memo.  No surprise, given how busy you are.  Who has time to think about vacations, anyway?  Vacations are for lazy people.  The disengaged.  The unemployed.  Hobos.  Besides, there'll always be time to figure something out.  Plenty of time left.  I'll sleep when I'm dead, right?

And the job... how can you leave the job for a whole [day, long weekend, {gasp} week]?  What if there's no signal for your BlackBerry at [the lake, the beach, the mountains, the cruise ship]?  It would be irresponsible.  It just isn't done anymore.  It's... unpatriotic.  They need you.

Now, don't get me wrong; I'm not advocating sloth, or dissing those who have a good work ethic.  I work pretty hard myself, most of the time.  But ask yourself: can you personally take credit for your 401(K)'s bounce back from the edge of recessionary oblivion, however partial and unrewarding?  I'm betting that had more to do with [the cash-for-clunkers program, the consumer confidence index, the triumph of greed over fear, the price of... well... eggs and stuff] than with the sweat of your own personal brow.  The thing is, stuff happens, with or without you.  We all want to believe we're in control, but you know what?  Well, you already know where this is going.

Here's a little exercise: Subtract your age from 74 (if you're male) or 80 (if you're female.) That's how many summers you have left. [source: howstuffworks.com, USA life expectancy, 2001]
So, this is the final boarding call.  Summer's heading off over the horizon.  A friend in Vermont reported seeing colored foliage at the top of Killington Mountain today (thanks for THAT, Willi!)  It's now or never.  What are you saving those vacation days for, anyway?  Christmas with the In-Laws?

I'll see you on the beach.  And if I don't... well, you can't say you didn't get the memo.
 

 

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