My "vacations" are usually frenzied adventures. By the time I get home, my sedentary editing work is a respite.
But a week of sailing through the Virgin Islands in the bosom of family (at its bosomy best) leaves me feeling foggy, as if I slept too long.
Yesterday in a taxicab on St. Thomas I turned to my nephew and co-vacationer Danny and asked him if he could have done two weeks on the sailboat.
"I could have done two years," he said.
It'll be two pots of coffee this morning.