I’ve learned from my past mistakes — where I would try to get the most out of my holiday by flying back into Melbourne less than 12 hours before starting work, to then spend the next three days suffering from PHD (post-holiday depression) and severe lack of sleep.
It’s not a pretty sight.
So this year I thought I'd given myself plenty of time to recover from my action-packed Queensland holiday (complete with endless days swimming at the beach, racing around Wet and Wild to ensure we got on EVERY ride, hauling myself up on inflatable obstacle courses at a giant aqua park, helping supervise a friend’s New Year’s Eve party complete with 60 rambunctious teenagers and looking after my hard-to-please five-month-old niece who is only happy when she has a boob in her mouth).
While it was a fun trip, it was exhausting. I felt like I needed a holiday after my holiday just to recover.
So I figured we’d catch the bus home from the airport as I would be too tired to drive.
Unfortunately, after flying into Melbourne on a Friday afternoon, we had three hours to kill before our bus departed. Three hours of hell with the girls not only killing time but almost killing each other as 15 days of being together 24-7 finally took its toll.
There’s only so many planes you can watch, drinks you can sip, snacks you can eat and games you can play on the iPad before boredom sets in. And that’s when the teasing began.
After almost tearing all my hair out (which I have a lot less of now it’s been cut short — which has been so liberating, mind you) we eventually made it onto the bus and we all got some shut-eye.
Which was great until they woke up at 9 pm in Echuca refreshed and ready for round two.
All I wanted to do was to curl up in bed and sleep for the next 40 hours.
But with two gigantic suitcases filled with a never-ending pile of washing and a house adorned with Christmas decorations, that was never going to happen.
So if my mood wasn’t melancholy enough after saying goodbye to all my family, taking down our Christmas tree was the final nail in the coffin.
And then before I knew it, it was Sunday night and work was waiting for me the next day.
So you can imagine how much sleep I got that night.
The next morning, my cheery disposition lasted until about 11.30 am before I devoured an early lunch and my third cup of coffee and desperately tried to get through the next five hours without becoming comatose.
By some miracle I made it, left work at 5 pm on the dot, promptly drove home and crawled into bed, where I remained for the next 14 hours.
I have now started planning for my next holiday. It doesn’t involve much. Just me, a book and a bed.