I rang my better half just after lunch last week.
"Right, let's head away somewhere," I said in a defeated tone.
"Okaaay," she answered tentatively. "What's wrong?" she added, a worried note creeping into her voice.
The subtext here is that she works in a school, and is constantly perplexed by my apparent inability to take holidays during mid-terms, Christmas, Easter and summer.
"You are supposed to be the boss - who's stopping you from taking a break?" has been a regular accusation.
All my miserable excuses about being busy or the weather wore out years ago.
Instead, it is now an established fact that I am just too miserable to fork out a few bob to 'spend some quality time away with your wife'.
So when I actually volunteered for a week off, she knew something was up.
Normally I'm able to hop out of the bed every morning thinking only of all the jobs to be tackled for the day.
Saturdays are optional, but they tend to end up involving work of some sort. I had worked all the hours that God sent during COVID in an effort to get the webshop going for the farm produce.
So it smarted a bit to hear others wax lyrical about all the free time the lockdown created with their families, gardens and hobbies. As the country started to open up again, life on the farm carried me along with the usual roll-call of early summer jobs and projects.
But I was beginning to notice that I just wasn't that keen anymore.
Every problem or question became a pain.
I'd had enough.
Luckily, it turns out that I am actually still the boss, and so when I decided to take a break, there was no drama.
As we hit the road the next day, Aoife kept checking me with small glances, undecided as to whether this unexpected get-away was a good or bad sign.
Rosses Point in Sligo was the first stop. Funny seeing a queue with about six people practically make a lap of the hotel lobby as everyone tried their best to keep 2m away from each other.
It was a four star hotel at very reasonable rates (I hadn't completely changed) but it's hard to provide a four star service when half of your staff are preoccupied disinfecting chairs after every seating, and the other half are run ragged trying to facilitate diners.
The restaurant could only seat half its normal capacity, resulting in a flat, whispered atmosphere. Only bar-food menus were on offer, and small things like a salt cellar or a pepper mill all had to be specially requested.
One of my favourite parts of staying in a hotel is the breakfast buffet where I typically settle in for the breakfast, dinner and tea, all in the one sitting.
But with buffets gone the same way as handshakes, my food order was curtailed to a full Irish or a plate of eggs.
First world problems as they say.
As we progressed up the coast into Donegal, I realised that breakfast with your bed was a bonus, with some B&Bs reduced to offering a paltry B only.
Both staff and customers seemed to be walking on eggshells, afraid to touch or cough, while at the same time trying hard to act normal.
It wasn't until we happened on a pizza bar tucked in behind Patsy Dan's pub in Dunfanaghy that we found a place with a real buzz about it.
Not that everyone was crammed in, but it had just the right mix of music and hub-bub that reminded me of the good old days, when people mixed in a carefree manner on a night out enjoying themselves.
And so I returned home to the farm with mixed emotions. It was great to get away and switch off my head for a few days of walking, swimming and touring about.
But there is also a growing unease inside me that the real economic impact of the coronavirus is only getting started.
The majority of hotels, restaurants and tourist attractions that much of rural Ireland depends on will struggle to break-even at the rate they are going.
Without money circulating outside our big cities and towns, the economic life-blood will drain out of huge swathes of the western seaboard.
Everyone who still has a paying job should count themselves seriously lucky. Those who can afford to take a holiday before returning to their job are even luckier.
So it's time for me to cheer up and feel grateful.
Darragh McCullough is a broadcaster and runs a mixed farming enterprise at www.elmgrovefarm.ie