Sometimes these vacations start ever too slowly - sometimes even painfully. You’d be in the middle of one and it wouldn’t even feel like it. Going even so far, as to be quite the opposite of what it intended out to be.
Sometimes they hiccup, threatening to stall but coming through at the very last moment. Like old yet faithful cars. Or unplanned for Visa issues. It's really the same thing, no? :)
Then there are the vanilla vacations. Neither here nor there, but good for the soul. Nothing more.
And then, then there are those that start way before. Way before the actual holiday would. As the days narrow to the flight date, the tingling in your spine becomes both, unbearable and a new found love. The scent alone drives you mad. And there's also the constant stupid smile on your face you have to deal with.
I have to go to work on Monday and then I leave for the actual holiday on Tuesday. If my boss manages to get any work out of me on Monday, I’ll readily buy him a bottle of the choicest scotch and mysteriously put it on his desk. The impossible deserves costly gifts.