Last week I spent a glorious week of diving and enjoying life. The week consisted of diving eating and sleeping (in that order). Everything was right with the world.
I was not ready for the return to the real world.
It has been a week back at work and I still cannot get back into the regular routine. I feel an emptiness and find my mind drifting back to the carefree days diving and laying in the sun during the surface intervals.
The diagnosis: a bad case of post-vacations blues.
Usually I find it easy to get back into work and the routine of life. For some reason, on this vacation, I almost feel like I left a part of my heart in the ocean. I know this will sound odd - but I feel a similar emptiness to when I got dumped by my previous girl friend.
A thought occurred to me today. Taking one week off to do what I live for seems like I have to endure 51 weeks of tedium for one week of bliss. Not only that, but I spend about 200 hours a year doing a part-time job just to pay for my SCUBA trips. Every minute of that is worth it for the sublime bliss of descending over the wall in the crystal clear water Roatan.
Only 50 weeks to go...
