Do I tell him....or not?
Mood:  cheeky
Topic: Ruminations
It didn't start out as a lie. Ex Mex and I DID mean to go to Berlin for Easter Week, but we got so dicked around by the pricing policies of the budget airlines that we gave up pretty soon after we started. And after Ex Mex and I gave up on Berlin, I got together with G-Man, and then before we cooled things down I had invited him on one of my dream trips...and then I invited A-OK along because I didn't want to be alone with a guy who disappointed me...and at some point, I don't remember exactly when, I made the conscious decision NOT to tell the boss that I wasn't going to Berlin.

So now the poor boss is convinced that I'm going to Germany, and obviously when I come back to work on the 17th, it's gonna look a little strange when I come back with a tan, especially as a lot of Germany is currently up to its hind parts in water, what with the Danube and Elbe rivers flooding most of the south and east of the country. (And no, I don't wear a lot of makeup, so I can't blame it on Max Factor, either....)

So what's the problem? El Jefe is a nice guy, but he's so fixated on the idea of us being friends that he doesn't seem to realize that even being friends has its limits. And one of those limits is respecting my down time, when I'm usually doing something else (writing, riding, translating, working on my website, whatever...) More than once, I've had to lie about my whereabouts in my spare time because he thinks that, because I live five minutes from the office, he can call on me to do things whenever he wants. Had he realized that the Berlin plans fell through, I could see myself being subjected to all kinds of whining, pleading, etc., to stay in town and work. And I'm sorry, but I haven't had a holiday since last August. My back is aching, I'm way the hell out of shape (so much for riding every day) and I need a break.

We had a HUGE argument last Friday (so huge I thought for a moment that I'd get the sack) about limits on work. That sealed it for me: I didn't care if it meant having to hide under the bed for 168 hours straight - I was NOT working during Easter Week. I was not telling him that I would be on the Iberian peninsula for that time. I need my space when I'm not in his back pocket, and vice versa. It's like being married to someone you don't find attractive. So there had to be limits. And I came down on the situation and established some.

Our Collective Agreement states that we have 32 days of holidays. And I plan on using them all.

Now I just have to think of some excuse to cover for my sunburned nose, after supposedly returning from a country which is half-innundated....!