This weekend I got out of the city for the first time in two years. Shit, don’t let me do that again. Make me leave the city. make me take vacations, even if I am worried about time or money.
I was up at our friend JP’s place. He’s the caretaker for 20 acres on the Sunshine Coast, which is just about the best place in BC, as far as I know.
We slept late and drank wine and built fires. Some of the guys played golf. We ate a lot of delicious food and froclicked on beaches. It was the best. I can;t remember the last time I smiled so much.
And then this morning when I woke up to go to work, it felt like there were knives in my belly. And then I spent 40 minutes on the toilet. Finally it dawned on me that I wasn’t going to drive any cars.
I called in sick to car jockeying and teaching and spent most of the day asleep/dozing/curled in a knot groaning.
I thought I would be asleep by now, but it turns out, when you wake up at 6PM, you’re not tired at midnight. Although I am not as stabby-bellied right now as I was earlier.
I feel like I’m being punished for having a good weekend. I didn’t eat anything weird. Maybe it is psychosomatic. Maybe Work Brain wants me to keep away from carefree weekends so I can obsess further about work. Or maybe it is physiological. I had three days off and my body doesn’t want to go back to work.
Whatever it is, I wish it would stop. I’m tired of the pain now.