I am ready

I step out of my office, blinking in the Madrid sun. You look like you’re ready for vacation, a colleague says to me.

I happened to be wearing head to toe black, so clearly she is talking about my face. To my face.  She is correct, of course. My outward appearance is doing a stellar job of expressing internal affairs.

Unfortunately, it is still June.  An entire month stretches before us, like some lazy sunbathing cat, before we reach our final destination: August.  That famed Spanish holiday.

At least I must not endure it alone.  My co-workers certainly suffer the same malaise.  While employees in the US can elect when to take a day or two or three from work, we in Spain are pretty much told when vacation is.  There is time away from the office during Christmas and New Years; there is Semana Santa and a scattering of Saints’ days.  And finally, there is glorious, mouthwatering August.

Some of my colleagues may wish that they could do vacation America-style.  A couple days here and a couple days there – spreading vacation time out over the course of the year.  But I’ve seen it both ways and I’ll take August, thank you very much.  There is a clear difference between checking email every once in a while throughout a vacation and forgetting your mobile has email capabilities at all.

And so, here we are in not yet July.  Suffering from it’s almost summer but it’s not syndrome.

Of course, with my colleague I pretend to be unaffected by a need for vacation.  I could work forever more.  And there’s so much to do!  Good thing it’s not yet even July!

Surely she is convinced, what with all my excitement.  That is, until I turn exuberantly back towards the office and slam-crash into the sliding glass door of the building.