the irony of breaks is that when you do get one, there is a nagging thought of all the work that is still left undone. So even while you relax and enjoy the break, there's always a guilty thought lingering about "oh how lazy you're being" and "its all going to go downhill if you don't buck up and get your game up" and when it comes to the end, when you're left watching the last sunset die out , the still glowing embers of those fleeting moments of "freedom", you're faced with the dread that you didn't do enough and that you played too much.

how ironic, when really, wasn't a break meant to be a release from the things that bind us?