I just got back from vacation, and I hate to complain, but the pressure of it is enough to get to a person. The decision-making alone nearly put me over the edge. Day after day. After day. Times seven. Or more if you're forced to vacation for longer than one week.
It's one thing after another.
Should we go to the beach or into town? Should we take the boat or the car? When in town should we go to the candy store or ice cream shop? Once at the ice cream shop do we get a single or double scoop? Sugar or waffle cone? Sprinkles or whipped cream or both?
It only gets worse from there.
Vacation provides the chance to sleep in. No alarm clocks. This produces a predicament of its own: breakfast for lunch or lunch for breakfast? And so it goes throughout the day - and night.
Chaise lounge on the deck or a blanket on the beach? Gather shells or skip stones? Build sandcastles or sunbathe? Which SPF is best? Which swimsuit? Which shoes? Which sunglasses? Which color polish shall we use on our toes?
Mini golf or amusement park? Rollercoaster or Ferris wheel? Zoo or museum? Book or magazine? Lemonade or iced tea? Take a walk or take a nap? Go shopping or go swimming?
Jet ski or pontoon? Fishing from shore or by boat? Make the wrong choice and we might not catch our limit. Then we'd have to eat pizza or hamburgers (or maybe chicken) for supper - and be required to decide between cooking at home, going to the restaurant or having the meal delivered.
The stress can be taxing. Vacations are supposed to be a time to relax, but if you take a nap in the afternoon, you might miss out on the family cribbage championship, the opportunity to watch an afternoon movie or play beach volleyball with the gang.
Oh sure, it's all good stuff, but the choices are choices. Pick one path and you give up another. The days and nights unfold, slowly at first and more quickly as the week progresses. Seven days sounds like a long time - until you are down to two. And as the sand in your vacation hourglass decreases, your angst does the opposite. You want to do it all and have as much fun as you possibly can while cruising through in relaxation mode and gosh darn it these decisions just remind you there may not be time enough to get everything done by Saturday at noon when you'll be compelled to make the decision to pack the car.
Midway through the week I was feeling the pressure. (Do it all. Have more fun.) And in a moment of vacation-induced clarity (either that or ice cream overload) came to an important conclusion: I didn't have time to complete all the activities I had planned. Even if I had twice the number of vacation days, there wouldn't be time. There'd never be enough time.
And, surprisingly, that was the best news of the week. If it wasn't possible to do it all, why even try? Pressure gone, we were free to enjoy each moment of the rest of our vacation.
That, and start planning for the next one.
- Jill Pertler's column appears every Thursday in the Times. She can be reached at pertmn@qwest.net.
It's one thing after another.
Should we go to the beach or into town? Should we take the boat or the car? When in town should we go to the candy store or ice cream shop? Once at the ice cream shop do we get a single or double scoop? Sugar or waffle cone? Sprinkles or whipped cream or both?
It only gets worse from there.
Vacation provides the chance to sleep in. No alarm clocks. This produces a predicament of its own: breakfast for lunch or lunch for breakfast? And so it goes throughout the day - and night.
Chaise lounge on the deck or a blanket on the beach? Gather shells or skip stones? Build sandcastles or sunbathe? Which SPF is best? Which swimsuit? Which shoes? Which sunglasses? Which color polish shall we use on our toes?
Mini golf or amusement park? Rollercoaster or Ferris wheel? Zoo or museum? Book or magazine? Lemonade or iced tea? Take a walk or take a nap? Go shopping or go swimming?
Jet ski or pontoon? Fishing from shore or by boat? Make the wrong choice and we might not catch our limit. Then we'd have to eat pizza or hamburgers (or maybe chicken) for supper - and be required to decide between cooking at home, going to the restaurant or having the meal delivered.
The stress can be taxing. Vacations are supposed to be a time to relax, but if you take a nap in the afternoon, you might miss out on the family cribbage championship, the opportunity to watch an afternoon movie or play beach volleyball with the gang.
Oh sure, it's all good stuff, but the choices are choices. Pick one path and you give up another. The days and nights unfold, slowly at first and more quickly as the week progresses. Seven days sounds like a long time - until you are down to two. And as the sand in your vacation hourglass decreases, your angst does the opposite. You want to do it all and have as much fun as you possibly can while cruising through in relaxation mode and gosh darn it these decisions just remind you there may not be time enough to get everything done by Saturday at noon when you'll be compelled to make the decision to pack the car.
Midway through the week I was feeling the pressure. (Do it all. Have more fun.) And in a moment of vacation-induced clarity (either that or ice cream overload) came to an important conclusion: I didn't have time to complete all the activities I had planned. Even if I had twice the number of vacation days, there wouldn't be time. There'd never be enough time.
And, surprisingly, that was the best news of the week. If it wasn't possible to do it all, why even try? Pressure gone, we were free to enjoy each moment of the rest of our vacation.
That, and start planning for the next one.
- Jill Pertler's column appears every Thursday in the Times. She can be reached at pertmn@qwest.net.
