I’m useless this afternoon. Mixed into the very busy days ahead due to Holy Week, and some projects at work, I have a vacation scheduled with my family in New Hampshire.

I was very productive earlier this week, and even into this morning. I once read in a book about efficiency (I believe it was David Allen’s Getting Things Done) that people tend to feel their best about work life just before a vacation, and the primary cause was that we tie up loose ends for days beforehand, and time everything to wind down by a set moment of the departure week. The author goes on to say that we should strive to live that “caught up” everyday. (Lord knows I try!) And so, I have two hours left in my work day, yet I feel more settled than I have in weeks. I’ve been closing emails to important people with “Just so you know, I’ll be out from x to y” and so on. I have deflected new projects, and ensured that my full team knows who will be relied upon for my various hand-offs while I’m away. I’m feeling good.

But that’s precisely the reason that I am useless this afternoon. Two hours to wait, and all I want to do is hit the open road (which still won’t happen until tomorrow). Between now and then, I still have to pack, give a voice lesson, lead a choir rehearsal, and do some housework, yet I still feel like it’s all within my grasp.

By my best estimate, I’m headed to a resort that I have visited some 40-45 times in my life. Over thirty of those visits have been during this timeshare week that my family has owned since I was “dead” (not yet born, that is), and with a few exceptions in the last decade, I have made the pilgrimage north in the second week of April every year since birth. A bit puzzling, then, that I have as much enthusiasm about the journey as I do when I prepare to visit a brand-new place. Puzzling. Or is it?

New Hampshire in spring time. So many wonderful sights and smells. In a way, each time we visit I feel like I’m returning to a home away from home. A large part of my breathless anticipation is due to the fact that I know exactly what to expect. Little changes year over year, and I like it that way. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled when I first drive up route 112 and find that there’s a new store, or that a hotel has been painted, but the real comfort comes in knowing that things will be largely the same.