Maybe they won't notice

I picked up my dog from the trainer today.  The kids are giddy and I'm grinning again and tomorrow we're headed out to see what he can do.  Although the calendar says Christmas was two weeks ago I'm not so sure.  See, last year I was without a bird dog, something I never thought would happen yet through forces unimaginable it did.  So I've been looking forward to this day to say the least.

Unfortunately it's just one day and then I'm back to the office, one of those "life ain't fair" moments.  I'd be lying if I said the thought of loading the truck and taking off for the rest of the bird season hadn't crossed my mind.  With more than a twinge of envy I've read about the guys who do this.  For someone in my shoes it sounds like a deal with the Devil.

Something tells me I'd be missed on Monday morning.  What would they say, all of those people I wrap myself in every day?  Two kids searching in vain for someone to chase them, tickle them and ask about whiskers for the ninety seventh time.  A wife who, among other things, rightfully expects me to do my share of raising these kids.  And a slew of people at several companies who want to know when they're getting paid, what do do about this that's broken and this that came in the mail and this that wasn't like this yesterday.

The truth is that I dearly love most of these people and honestly like the rest of them.  Otherwise it would be easy to load the truck and head out.  But screw the easy button, isn't there a pause button I can push?  I've heard about people who take sabbaticals, just set everything aside and take off for a few months or a year or so at full salary.  I need to read that book.  In the meantime I suppose I'll do the responsible, logical, mature thing.  Then again, they're calling for snow on Monday.