It’s Friday, folks. I have such a love-hate relationship with Fridays. Obviously it’s the last day of the workweek and therefore the start of the weekend, which most consider to be a good thing. And it is, mostly. But it’s also the end of the workweek. Didn’t I just say that? The end of the workweek signals the start of the work weekend and the work weekend is often worse than the workweek. You follow?
Come Friday, I’m so fried from a long week of Excel and reports and logs and lists and emails about inventory that I usually want to crawl into a Vodka hole and punch myself in the head hoping to black out for at least ten days. But I can’t for obvious reasons.
Instead, I make some ice cream for dinner and snuggle up with Star Trek and Tylenol PM and pass out by 8pm. (Unless my husband won’t stop groping me, in which case I don’t go to bed until 8:10pm). Then I proceed to have nightmares of all the shit I’m supposed to cram into a two day period without having a nervous breakdown. I wake up sweaty and pissed off because my husband is snoring and I can’t fall back to sleep and I only have 4 hours left until my little Napoleon wakes up and I actually have to face the weekend head on.
Ah yes. The weekend: make breakfast, clean up breakfast, pick out paint samples for the bedroom which we HAVE to do because we painted other samples on the wall 2 months ago and now our walls look like Jackson Pollock had a go at them. Return 20 different Christmas presents to 20 different stores, put Christmas boxes away, take Wes to gym class, pick up our fruit and veggie delivery from the drop off center, run to the grocery store, take my shoes to shoe repair, pick up shoes we ordered from the kids shoe shop, call the wallpaper guy that keeps flaking on us. and pack Wes up for an overnight at Grandmas. And that’s just Saturday MORNING.
Sundays are even worse because Monday is looming over my head and I can feel my failures from the weekend closing in around my neck…piling themselves on to the next weekend…suffocating my chances of ever having a moment to relax.
So I kinda love to hate Fridays and weekends in general. Am I making sense? Weekend = no Excel = amazing. Weekends = no Life = not so amazing.
I. AM. NEVER. GOING. TO. GET. AHEAD. EVER. AGAIN. EVER!
Because weekends are a marathon of madness for me, I’m often glad when Monday rolls around and I can escape back to work where at least I can pee alone. But everyone hates Monday’s because Monday is the start of the workweek and workweeks = Excel = not so amazing.
Fuck. And I’m back where I started.
Maybe I can live in a perpetual state of Wednesday?
– The Confessioness
This is so great! Yeah…I mean…what happened to weekends? They’re about as taxing as weekdays. Right now it’s Saturday and I’m in full denial about having to get all the stuff done that is staring me in the face saying “Stop ignoring me!” argh.
Hey Linda – sorry for the late response! I got caught in a weekend/weekday wormhole and somehow ended up in NYC. Weird.
[…] may know by now that I have an extreme love-hate relationship with Saturday and Sunday and last weekend proved no different. From Legoland to Santa […]