The diary of almost everything

Working in education means working hard and being lucky enough to have generous holidays.
And honestly, they really are wonderful.

I’ve been out of my routine for two and a half weeks now. Long dinners. Catching up with friends I hadn’t seen in a while. One meal flowing effortlessly into the next.
Time spent well. Time spent slowly.

Was I completely relaxed?
I’m not sure. I think my body was on holiday while my brain occasionally checked its emails, just to see if anything dramatic had happened without me.

Still, I enjoyed it. I had a few lattes, I cuddled my cats, I felt good.

And then, inevitably, the messages started coming in:
Last day, enjoy!
Tomorrow we start again!
As if I might accidentally forget…..!

All lovingly meant, truly.
And yet, I absolutely hate it.
Why do we need to underline it like that?
Why announce the ending as if it’s breaking news?

I want to hold on to the feeling a little longer. However, somewhere between the couch and the kitchen, I start negotiating with tomorrow.

I want to roll into work the same way I rolled into vacation.
But then gently, without a countdown. Without anyone shouting ENJOY YOUR FINAL HOURS.

Of course there’s that familiar Sunday evening feeling.
The one that whispers: tomorrow, the working world resumes.
Which is usually followed by a brief but vivid fantasy of having won the lottery and living on a tropical island with a drink in your hand, never answering emails again, despite having never actually bought a lottery ticket.
What makes this even more ironic is that during most of the year, I actively fantasise about winning the lottery and then completely forget to buy a ticket.

But December? December is when I suddenly become wildly optimistic.
I buy tickets. Multiple ones, different lotteries, Various draws.
All with the same unwavering confidence.
And every year, the result is the same.
This year, I won twenty euros. Which is nice, but not exactly quit-your-job-and-move-to-an-island money.

Not because I dislike my job, I don’t.
I actually enjoy it.
But I don’t live to work. I work to live.
And I know from experience that once tomorrow starts, once the first coffee is poured and everyone has seen each other again, this feeling will disappear. It always does. Still, this moment lingers.

Who decided a five-day workweek made sense anyway?
Two days off, five days on.
Personally, I’d like to suggest we reverse that. Just as a trial. For research purposes.
At the same time, I know myself well enough to admit that the more free time I have, the more money I spend.

Which is why I secretly loved January 1st.
Everything closed. Nothing to do. No options.
The same thing I oddly appreciated during the lockdowns.
Not because businesses shouldn’t thrive, of course they should, but because there was no pressure to go somewhere.
Everyone was home. And so were you.
That collective pause felt calm.
I’m very good at being on my own.
Days at a time, no problem.
But eventually, I like to step outside for an hour, for a walk or a coffee at my favourite café.
Just enough movement to reset.

When everything is closed, that gentle urge disappears. No FOMO, no decisions.

Tomorrow, we go back.
Not dramatically but just… back.
And yes, sometimes it makes me wonder: is this it?
Or is there another step I’ll take one day?
Not a big plan but just those quiet daydreams.
The ones that drift in when you’re sitting somewhere and suddenly think: that would actually be lovely.

For now, though, I’m good where I am.
So tonight, I’m on the couch under a blanket, with my two cats pressed firmly against me. Snow falling outside, a hot shower waiting and maybe a short walk outside!

And, as always on the last day of any holiday, I make promises.
I’ll prepare everything.
Clothes laid out, bag ready and lunches planned. Salads with pearl couscous and roasted pumpkin.
It lasts about a week, possibly five working days. On a good run.

Then life gently unravels again, and I’m back to checking whether I locked the door.
Did I bring my keys?
Oh no. That thing is still upstairs.

Maybe discipline would help.
Or maybe I should simply enjoy the moments when I do feel organised without demanding permanence.

So today, I’m doing exactly that.
Enjoying this ‘last day’.
No countdown and no emphasis.

Tomorrow, everything starts again.
And honestly?
It will be fine. It always is.

-Sophie Quinn

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