I'm want a refund on my summer! I spent from mid-June to mid-August either suffering, or watching the rest of my family suffer with an ugly case of contagious pneumonia. Usually summer means fun and that missing element became a great teacher.

No one who watches me work or judges the externals of my life would imagine it isn't full of fun. I receive scads of free childrens books daily, teaching writing with games, write about subjects I love...what's to complain about? The bizarre truth I uncovered this summer is that I play best when I work.

Those who work at home, enjoy the work they do, and juggle a number of jobs probably understand the trap. Someone once told me that being self employed still means you work 40+ hours a week, it's just that you get to choose the hours. My best work time begins at 2 am when I wake with thoughts of impending deadlines thrumming away in my brain. After it becomes clear that tossing and turning won't rock me back to sleep, I creep out of bed and write until the rest of the house arises. There are no distractions, telemarketers never call, and I can count on a solid block of time. Of course I'm a complete zombie for a couple of days after one of these all nighters, but I've usually met two or three deadlines and experienced the high of uninterrupted work time. But usually I squash my writing into little bits and pieces of time and that leaves few moments reserved for play.

This summer I'd tentatively scheduled a trip to visit a friend, only my summer got divided into all these tiny pieces and there wasn't time for the trip, also I had another book I wanted to write, I couldn't afford airfare....I had endless excuses. My friend promised she'd relax for the both of us, only I wasn't really getting the benefit. But I was getting jealous hearing about the tranquility and playfulness of her summer and depressed looking at the sick people in my family and the piles of work I had yet to do. It dawned on me that I had another year of work ahead of me and increased impossibility of down time. Work would always be there, but time to relax wouldn't.

So, even though my bank account wasn't at a particularly high ebb, I called and made a reservation. "It's a symbol," I told my friend. "I am going to work at not working!" She applauded my decision and made ready for fun.

I arrived worn and wan and she chauffeured me around from beach rests, body surfing adventures and once a forested hike to a glacial pond where we munched blueberries as we walked. By the time four days had passed, I laughed easily, joked more fluently, enjoyed chatting with everyone I met, and remembered what it was like to have fun.

I returned home and thought immediately of the work I had to do. I had mounds of mail to sort, boxes of books to open, and deadlines looming. I felt the pull to work again and remembered with a little guilt how much fun I'd had and I wanted to share that with my family.

So I suggested a game of family tennis. It was a hot day and I hadn't played tennis in twenty-five or so years, but they took me up on it. They were patient when I couldn't return balls and I laughed about the invisible hole in my racket. Inspired by the humidity, frivolity, and a background tinkle of an ice cream truck, we finally recessed to the freezer section of the grocery store to savor cold fruit bars and the fun we'd had being together.

Ever since, I've continued giving myself a refund on summer. I'm experimenting with putting fun into my life equation...zipping to a water park on a hot afternoon, planning trips, spending an hour reading. I have to admit, it's not always comfortable, still whenever I can, I'm choosing fun before work.