Sleeping in Paradise

It probably says a lot about me that I…would really rather prefer to get sick while on vacation that pretty much any other time.

I don’t have to call anyone. I don’t need a note signed by a doctor to prove my illness. I don’t need to deal with…anything actually.

It’s already *my* time.

So, if I choose to spend it drinking water and tea, and sleeping and attempting to eat vitamin-dense foods until I get better?

I don’t have to justify that.

If, instead of sleeping, I choose to watch some stupid movie for the five-thousandth time.

Well. I can damn well do that too.

If I’m going to get sick, I might as well do it when the only schedule I’m on is *mine*.

(Even if it is beautiful and tropical and I’m about a ten-minute walk from the beach.)




(It is also probably a very good thing for me to be on Holiday, because I don’t often hit a point when my response to the thought of *people* is just “DO. NOT. WANT. TO DEAL. WITH THAT.”. Usually it’s more like…”YAY! PEOPLE!” So, I reckon that some more sleep will do me good.)


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