I arrived home, unpacked, did laundry, repacked with fancier clothes, had a vacation in which I ate fabulous meals, watched ocean waves on the beach, met up with lots of people including an old high school friend who lives on an island on the west coast and is saving the world, and got addicted to the blue potato chips (they're actually blue, made from blue potatoes) served on Jet Blue flights. Got home again, did laundry again, went hiking or had lunch or dinner or dessert with various people, didn't get organized enough to meet up with many more, and then repacked for work.
It all went by about as fast as that paragraph, but was much more fun and punctuated by many iterations of "we must do this again." The only problem with having so much fun on my time off, is that it makes me reluctant to go back to work. But then I remember that at work if conditions are suitable I fly and airplane and if they are not I can watch TV, explore new places or play on the Internet. And I like all those things. If I stayed home I would be obligated to clean the bathrooms, do home repairs, or file paperwork. So work is good.