Every summer is a holiday

Your housemates admired your can-do attitude, even were amazed at your level of energy. They hardly got out of bed during Reading Week, while you found the time to browse the pages from the books (on the reading list) while composing e-mails to your friends. And you weren't envious when some of them went out of town during summer. Being a couch potato was good enough, prompting your tutor to remark that you could be a valuable employee in any company.

You were sensible to look through your career options, opting to pursue a literary career later. (You were uncertain, as you wanted to have a place of your own and the latest MacBook.) It didn't take long for you to find a job. You got to know your colleagues in a couple of months. (Most of them. There would be another time to know them more.) And you haven't received any strong words from your boss. No one asked you about your plans for the summer. (It was last year's.) Time flew fast. And then you experienced symptoms of a two-year itch. It should be seven-year itch, but you noticed the photos that your (former) housemates posted on Facebook. Monsoon wedding in Jaipur, a panorama of the Great Pyramids of Giza, Maya Bay before sunset. Something hit you.

Why so many holidays? You could imagine yourself joining the activities during National Tolkien Reading Day, but National Pencil Day would be something else. (The last time you used a pencil was during your second year in the university.) Your (former) coursemate even reminded his (Facebook) friends about Pi Day. You knew what you did during that day. (You chose to loaf, and you didn't do it to put yourself into a creative mood.) You wondered if you were missing something, if it was about time to plan for your summer holiday. And then you had that Eureka moment. It wasn't a premise for the novel (you would write someday), but it was the virtues of a summer holiday. You tried (too hard) to think of the reasons. Here they are:

You have a life. You don't want to prove to your colleagues that your existence revolves around your job, but you couldn't recall the last time you went out for a drink. (You turned down your invitations from your former housemates, as something would come up.) And you finally believed your friends were telling you. It won't be an adorable three-month old pug (for National Puppy Day), not even volunteering (for National Social Work Month). A little adventure might turn out to be better than you thought.

You're getting tired of social media. You don't want to tell your colleagues that you visited Einstein's official Facebook page a few times, hoping a user (or two) would get chummy online. There were times when you felt alone, while browsing the Internet, prompting you to think of the real thing. Nothing beats to it, which doesn't mean that summer should be the time to make new friends. You're becoming jealous of your (former) housemates having a good time somewhere else.

You don't want to think about work. Not all the time. Not most of the time as well.

You started to search for travel blogs, as summer was coming. You could still feel the cold air, but it won't be long.