I love long weekends. (Who doesn’t? Really, the only people who don’t love long weekends are probably members of al-Qaeda, or the League of Recreational Puppy Kickers, or something equally heinous. But I digress.)
After an insanely busy week, this long weekend was very, very much needed. Granted, I’ve spent huge portions of that long weekend either running errands or hanging out with friends, so it hasn’t involved much in the way of downtime — but the beauty of the long weekend is that it gives me time to see my friends, do what I need to do to prepare for the week ahead, and actually catch some rest.
This means that by the time I go back to work, life is a lot more manageable. In addition to the happily shorter workweek, I feel like my ducks are actually in a row — and considering that I spend a lot of time feeling like my ducks are not only decidedly not in a row, but that they were all eaten by a pack of feral cats that I’m now trying to herd, this is a big deal.
I feel all warm and fuzzy inside knowing that there are pre-chopped veggies for dinner in the fridge, clean clothes in my closet, and that I know where my keys are.
That said, though, the amount of time it takes just to get my act together is an element of Life in the Real World 2.0 that I still find kind of bewildering. When I was living and working in DC after college (AKA: Life in the Real World 1.0), I lived in a group house where we were able to divide and conquer on chores and household maintenance. I cooked pre-made meals from Trader Joe’s. It took an hour, maybe 90 minutes at the most, for me to get my shiz together for the week.
Now? I need to allocate the better part of a day to getting my life organized. (Adulthood is weird, guys. It involves a lot of paperwork.) Hence my love of the long weekend: I have time to do everything, hang out with my homies, and still get some down time. It’s like scheduling sorcery!
So, I actually feel pretty good about going back to work today. Here’s to Tuesdays, people.