THE HOLIDAY AT THE END OF THE WEEK

A post on Facebook read: STOP LOOKING FORWARD TO FRIDAY, MAKE EVERY DAY SPECIAL! – Actually, that’s NOT such a good idea. The weekend is my time to be lazy and self-indulgent, to eat pizza & ice cream and watch movies on my DVR in the middle of the afternoon. Unless I’m going out with friends, the weekend is make-up free. And during the warmer months, clothes-free, too!

I’ve heard retired folks say, “Every day is Saturday”. These people must have maids!!!

As a semi-retired, struggling writer, I’m home most of the time. But there’s always housework, fun activities such as vacuuming, dusting, washing, & ironing, etc... But on the weekend, anything that pertains to that certain 4 letter word (WORK) is out of mind until Monday. My weekend officially begins Friday afternoon after the mailman arrives, usually around 2:00 PM.

Back when I worked outside the home, Saturday & Sunday were just as busy and stressful as the rest of the week. I spent all day Saturday trying to cram a week’s worth of housework into that 1 day. All of Sunday was spent getting ready for the week ahead. There was little time to just catch my breath and relax.

I’ve always felt there should be 2 extra days sandwiched between Saturday & Sunday. The order would be Friday, Saturday, Marsday, Starsday, & Sunday. But until I can get the rest of the planet on board, Marsday and Starsday languish in the dimension between worlds.

Nowadays my weekend exists only for the things I truly enjoy!!! All the best horror & sci-fi movies on my DVR await me! I delight in a ménage a trois with Ben & Jerry. My 2 current favorites together: special edition cotton candy and sweet cream with the salted caramel core. My dinner table is decorated all pretty just for me. I eat only the cuisine I enjoy the most.

EVERY WEEKEND IS A HOLIDAY!!! Also it could be called my vacation at home.

This is a time not to be weighed down by thoughts of the past or what may happen in the future, but to revel in the NOW, relishing every moment! Everything but the most serious of problems will be placed on hold.

Saturday, I get up around 5:30 AM just to make the day last longer. And usually I stay up later on Saturday nights. The only thing I do that remotely resembles work is write. My words always seem to flow better then.

However, Sunday evening has an element of sadness. I’m aware that I’m quickly running out of weekend. I can almost feel Monday seeping up thru the ground, its long gnarled talons scraping my feet.

I realize there’s a time and place for everything. If extraordinary things became every day, they would soon be common place. The special times would cease to be.