I’m juggling a bunch of different projects and planning several events at work right now, and I think the stress is getting to me because I had a minor panic attack in the car on the way to work yesterday over power strips. Specifically, whether I remembered to add power strips to an event purchase order. I know I *thought* about adding them, but did I actually do it? I don’t think I did … GREAT, I’M GOING TO BE FIRED AND I’LL LOSE MY CAR AND MY HOUSE AND I’LL HAVE TO LIVE UNDER THE BRIDGE LIKE A TROLL.
Contributing to the stress is the fact that I haven’t taken a vacation in almost a year. Partially because my new workplace puts employees through a six-month probationary period before they’re eligible to use vacation time, and partially because I’m one of those people who thinks their office CANNOT POSSIBLY function without them so they hoard their vacation time and wind up having mental breakdowns over power cords.
The good news is that I only have to wait a few more months before I finally get a vacation: A bunch of my best college friends and I are planning a summer trip to Palm Springs in August, and I cannot wait. We all lived in a house together our senior year, and we did a lot of reality TV watching/Chipotle eating/general adventuring around the LA area. It was basically the best time ever. Here is a picture of us hanging out in Santa Monica approximately one million years ago:
I moved up to Northern California the year after I graduated, and it’s been way too many years since I’ve seen them (see vacation hoarder comment above). I tend to put a lot of pressure on myself at work, to the point where I feel genuinely guilty requesting time off, even if I’ve earned it. However, I’m finding that the older I get, the more I care about doing what’s best for myself, and that includes taking time off. Basically what I am saying is God help whoever winds up sitting next to me on the flight to LA.