Let me start off by clarifying that the Bed and Breakfast I am referring to is lovely. The proprietor was very nice and her breakfast, consisting of platter bacon, two types of crustless veggie quiche and blueberry clafloutis was divine. The rooms were immaculate and the resident cat spent the night on the foot of our bed. We had a perfectly lovely experience. Now down to the nitty gritty, or rather, lack of any nitty or gritty. I’m not sure who came up with the idea that a Bed and Breakfast stay was “romantic”, but now I honestly think they were people who liked having strangers listen to them getting down. A B&B is cozy, yes, homey, sure, but romantic in a sexy way, no. The word romantic is so commonly paired with B&B, that it seems natural to just say “We’re going to a romantic B&B up the coast!” and when I made the reservations, that is exactly the thought that ran through my head. Me: “Ooh honey, this room has a fireplace and overlooks the river” Seen (the honey, sneaking a peak at a picture on the Inn’s website): “Oh wow, that looks romantic!” Me: “The place is all booked up except for this one room. Let’s stay here for our romantic night away!” This would be a much needed getaway. By both our estimating, we hadn’t had an overnight outting together, by ourselves, since December 2004. It wasn’t for lack of interest, just life kept taking over and getting in the way. After a few years of overwhelming family commitments and being broke due to double unemployment, my hubby and I lost that ‘we need time away’ mindset. But now everything has calmed down, and I decided on Friday afternoon that...

The point of Labor Day weekend has always flummoxed me. Why do we need a holiday weekend at the end of August? Presumably we’ve been taking our vacations sometime over this period, and enjoying those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer. Yet apparently we need a break after all of that, a break that completely robs the week we now find ourselves in of any momentum. In school, we’d often start classes the week before Labor Day, only to immediately go into a 3-day weekend, completely throwing off class schedules right when they should be getting started. I’m not against holidays, and certainly not against the labor movement that this most recent holiday commemorates (unions helped put food on my table throughout my childhood). But there does seem to be a prevailing notion in our society that encourages us to take breaks more often than we need them. Advertising constantly encourages give ourselves a break, or have a treat. Self-help books and novels encourage us to find ourselves on vacations—to escape from the stress of our busy days. But how busy are our days, really? Certainly there are those out there who work 60 hours and more a week, who struggle through multiple jobs to support family or maintain a decent quality of living. But those people probably aren’t taking breaks—they can’t afford to. For the rest of us who work closer to 40 hours (or less) we probably tend to give ourselves too many breaks. Ok, I give myself too many breaks. I’ve never found it difficult to stop working and take it easy. It’s getting going again that is the real difficulty. There is nothing I have found that is more addictive than complacency—it’s really the root of all continuing bad habits....