It’s finally the weekend.
I always have such big plans for the weekend. Then somehow, in the blink of an eye it’s over and I have accomplished nothing. Well, it’s not magic. I mean, there are 48 hours to the weekend; more if you count the hours on Friday after I clock out and those Monday morning hours before I clock in, again. So let’s round up to 60 hours, total, then.
Seriously: how do I piss away 60 hours?
Friday and Saturday, I go to sleep making mental plans for the next day. Laundry, clean the balconies, cull items from the storage area, wash the car…you get the idea. I actually do throw some fun stuff into those plans, like a trip to the beach or the nearby Botanical Garden.
The mornings start out like any other. Coffee. Maybe ask Alexa to play some Dean Martin. Then before I know it, it’s noon. I haven’t eaten or gotten dressed. (Well, I’m dressed, just still in my pajamas. Sitting around naked on the weekends, or any other day, is not something I do. Anymore. Ew. I know.) I realize, I just spent 5 or 6 mindless hours scrolling.
Now before you chastise me for waking up so early in the morning on a weekend day, look at any old person. They usually have an internal alarm (not to be confused with the internal clock women often feel ticking when they have postponed starting a family). That alarm comes into being after years of repeated use, usually as a result of raising a family or having a job to go to (<–remember what I said about ending my sentences with prepositions?). I always marveled at my mother’s ability to consistently wake up, before anyone else, without an alarm. Of course, she had 8 children, a husband, and an outside job; and now that I have lived that life (oh, hell no, not the 8 kids thing, but kids, a husband, and a job), I understand. It was probably the only peaceful time of day she experienced!
Perhaps that’s the point.
All week long I tend to others’ needs. I am required to think, plan, act, produce results. Sounds a little like a Quality Improvement tool. PDSA: Plan Do Study Act. And repeat. And it does repeat; 5 days a week, 8 hours a day. So I guess I need mindless once the weekend arrives.
Part of the point of taking up photography was to get out more. Go places. Do things. Meet people. And here is where I abandon thoughts of housework. Why waste the weekend with that nonsense? It will be here tomorrow.
Maybe a trip to Grand Central Market, downtown will be nice. It is always bustling with activity. Well, pre-pandemic, at least. They just reopened, so I’m wondering what that looks like, now. With the new (reinstated) mask order, will it be busy? Business as usual? Or will the past lockdown(s) have taken their toll? Regardless, it might feel nice to be out and amongst the go-getters of the weekend.
I can’t say I’ve always been a hufflelump like this. But neither can I say I’m one of those dynamos who is always busy. I think back on my childhood and can’t remember my parents doing much different than I in their older years. Work. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.
For me, there’s comfort in a routine like that. Maybe I just need to redefine what my weekend routine is. It doesn’t have to be the same as the week, does it?
So this morning, I’m going to start by shutting down the electronic devices, have some breakfast and go where the wind takes me.
Oh, who am I kidding? It’s not even 7 AM. I have more scrolling to do.