This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2017, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

Robert Kirby is still recuperating from a star-spangled Fourth. And, no, he didn't spark any fires. This is a reprint of a previous column.

At a glance, it seemed like a great time. The sun was bright, the water blue, and nobody got hurt who didn't have it coming. We spent a week soaking up rays and eating ourselves into stupors.

My wife pronounced the vacation a 2 on a scale of 1 to 5 (with 1 being the best). I reminded her that the wind sucked our $150 awning out into the lake. Also, brother-in-law Mike fell off a Jet Ski going 500 mph and had to go to the hospital to find out that his hams are now shoulder pads. It was definitely a 4.

She countered with sleeping in, homemade ice cream, magnificent sunsets and long evening chats with her family. We debated it and settled on 2.7. Not great, but certainly not the worst vacation we ever had.

Simply saying that you went on vacation is a lie. Vacation implies a relaxing departure from the stress of normal life. Most vacations are anything but. Some rival death marches.

There are five basic categories of vacations. Subcategories are permissible based on the peculiarities of one's family, but the five basics remain.

First class • The perfect vacation. You go to a place you love, with only those you love, and do things you love. It can be Tahiti or Moab or your own backyard. Doesn't matter. The point is that nothing goes wrong.

You unwind completely (not counting tequila) and come home refreshed. When that happens, it doesn't matter how much it cost. It was worth it.

If you ever have a first-class getaway, treasure it. They're rare. The only one I ever had was a week home alone with my wife when everyone thought we were gone.

Second class • You still have a good time, but there were minor problems. And, by that, I mean actual minors. Any vacation with kids involves work for you, and work is no vacation.

I'm not saying that you shouldn't take kids on vacation, only that it's impossible to unwind completely when you have to worry about someone else going headfirst down a badger hole or falling overboard.

Car trouble, speeding tickets, lost luggage, military coups, something always seems to undermine the perfect vacation.

Third class • You might as well have stayed home. Every hour of fun requires two hours of prep work. This is especially true if you're in charge of other people's relaxation or if the kids outnumber you.

Location may come into play here. It's possible to take an extended family cruise and end up wishing you'd spent the time in jail instead. After that, Barstow, Calif., seems a garden destination if your mother-in-law isn't coming along.

Fourth class • Here you wish you had stayed home. We're talking a vacation so horrible that you can't wait to go back to work scrubbing septic tanks. I've been on a lot of fourth-class vacations. I had one in Hawaii and another in Florida. There isn't much worse than spending a wad of money to have a miserable time.

And don't tell me that it's all about attitude. There's no way to have a good attitude about a sinking boat or botulism. In fact, it's possible to go from first class immediately to fourth. It happened to me while trying to clear Brazilian customs.

Fifth class • I have been on one of these. It involved a late flight, cramming an extended family into a single condo instead of three, a flatulent poodle and the stomach flu.

It's almost humanly impossible to go on more than one fifth-class vacation and retain your sanity. You're lucky if you don't start taking hostages to get on a plane to go home.

The best thing about any vacation, though, is that you know it will end. Then you can go home and relax.

Robert Kirby can be reached at rkirby@sltrib.com or facebook.com/stillnotpatbagley.