I snuck into work for a few minutes on Friday to post bulletins about my band's last minute gig Friday night. By chance, everyone was out of the office for a long lunch. I was gonna make it--no one would even know I was there. Then I heard someone walking down the hall. He glanced at me, but was looking for someone else. But since I was the only one around--

"Have you seen --?" he asked me. I was trying to duck underneath my computer monitors, but I was caught. I had to explain myself.

"I'm not even here," I said. "I'm on vacation. I just had to come in to fix a couple of things."

He took this explanation in stride and told me where everyone was. A birthday lunch for one of the ladies. Good, I thought. Didn't have to deal with that, at least.

While I'm a little bummed I ended up having to stop by the office during my vacation, it was necessary. Because there are ancient computers and Internet hook-ups at my house, it's almost impossible to do anything on the web from my home other than send e-mail. Even that is a pain. Usually this is fine. Not having a constant and speedy connection away from work keeps the Internet where it belongs--at work. But sometimes real life intervenes.

For the last few weeks, plans haven't really gone exactly the way I thought they would. It's kind of a pattern. I'm not sure if it's some kind of world shift because of the twin deaths of the feeding tube woman and the pope or what. But plans haven't been straight lines lately--even though, for the most part, what I wanted to get accomplished was. Just in a completely different way.

And as I finish up my vacation (less than a day left), I'm relatively sure my plans for the rest of the day (mimosas and laundry in the afternoon followed by band practice) will go off in a relatively normal sort of way.

Of course, I woke up to snow on the ground this morning. As usual, no one around here predicted this meteorological event. Guess those weeds are going to have to wait a bit before getting pulled to their death.

A few days ago I hiked the south side of the Sandias in 70 degree weather, getting a bit sunburned in the process. Today, snow.

I'd say someone is fooling with my head, but it's not just me. Everyone is getting fooled. It must be spring. It must be all the construction projects on every street in town. It must be daylight savings and steroids. I have found the weapons of mass destruction--but they are made of broccoli.

Vacation, to most, usually involves going somewhere (transportation costs) to do stuff you usually don't do (entertainment costs) for more than anyone in their right mind would pay (inflation or devaluation of the dollar costs).

Since these last-minute three days off gave me little time to plan and occurred during the most expensive month of the year (insurance, taxes, fixing broken drum stuff, band recording costs and restocking the wine rack), I spent about the same amount of money I'd spend for a quickie weekend marriage and honeymoon in Vegas. So it's not like I saved anything by taking a rest in my hometown.

But I went to a restaurant I'd never been to for a nice afternoon lunch. I saw some friends' bands play in a venue I hadn't been to since it'd been converted from a second run movie theater to a church. And I fought off the want of laziness to play a blistering set of Old Beans music.

It's not about a less traveled road. Or even about a road with potholes. It's about a vacation state of mind. If I went to Disneyland for a week and it was closed, would I be able to have fun anyway? Can't Disneyland be in my mind? Even if the Disneyland is a dark, twisted cartoon of a cartoon.

Y'know, kind of like Sin City without the guns and cannibals. Where the lips are ruby red and everything else is in black and white. And the heroes wrestle with existential dilemmas as much as gangsters.

So, if you'll excuse me, I've got to wander out to the beach, drink in hand, for my last day of relative freedom.

Matt Worley fools himself when necessary.