Holidays, holidays, man, sometimes I really hate holidays. Well ok, I really only hate holidays when I am about to take one.
I don’t know why, but the thought of going away for a few days or weeks (or months) just makes me feel stressed. Having to clean the apartment, making sure everything (the cat, our chickens) is looked after while we are away.
Perhaps the main thing is having to clean the apartment and preparing everything for the people who will be staying here while we’re gone. I procrastinate the cleaning and then feel stressed thinking about having to do it.
Then there’s the stress of flying. I used to love flying when I was younger but now I hate it. I don’t mind the actual flying part (unless it’s a whole bloody day to get to Australia), but the whole deal at the airport (and getting there!) I feel stressed going through security even though I know I’ve done nothing wrong. I still can’t shake the anxiety.
The days leading up to a flight (maybe just one or two), I think about how I’d rather not go on this holiday – just stay home and not have to deal with the preparation. At least packing is not such a big deal because I’ve finally learnt that less is more, so really keep my possessions down to a minimum.
It’s a pity that we are going away right when our tomatoes are ripening and our plum tree is almost ready to be picked! I feel a bit sad knowing I am going to miss this, though I know that two weeks will fly by and I will probably wish to still be holidaying when they are over..