I have a three-day weekend. For the time being I’m going to ignore the messy yard, the laundry, the school projects, and the emails I need to tend to. I’m letting the sun warm my body as it blasts through the sliding glass door. I’m going to stay in my jammies til at least noon.
Yesterday afternoon was a bit of a train wreck at work. One kid in particular was wearing my nerves so thin I actually had to pause and put my head down and regroup lest I pull out my hair or turn into my version of The Hulk. I had a day where I felt I hadn’t been a great teacher. I wasn’t getting through to some of them and my voice was a mouse fart against their elephant trumpeting and T-Rex stomping.
So I believe I deserve a three-day weekend. Reboot, please.
Sometimes three-day weekends put a lot of pressure on you, though. If you don’t have a trip planned (which would have been nice) you are immersed in your surroundings and all the things you know you should do since you have an extra day. Rest and relaxation is on the agenda. But wait, that bill… that email… the yard… the kids… my creative projects.
Maybe I’ll just pretend I have to work Monday. So Sunday night will be a grand surprise when I don’t have to set my alarm for the next day.
I’m half-joking about the pressure because I believe everyone should have three-day weekends all the time. Or at least three days off per week. People will ask less time off from work because they will get all their doctor appointments, etc. covered. More time with family and friends. More time for exercise. So in turn less time at the doctor’s office. One day less of work commuting so better for the environment. More productive at work because they are refreshed. More balance in life.
That’s my opinion. I won’t get into the reasons why it might be difficult. Let me just stay in my jammies writing, ignoring the chores, and listening to my son have a blast with his friends he only gets to see on the weekends.
How do you feel about three-day weekends? What would you do with that extra day?
So I’m a pretty social person. It usually takes me thirty minutes to an hour to walk my dog around the block because while she sniffs for the perfect place to leave her mark I have at least a couple encounters with neighbors. This is a far cry from the upscale neighborhood I lived in three years ago. Hardly anyone talked to each other and when they did I felt I was on another planet talking to aliens or an extra in the movie Stepford Wives.
These current encounters with neighbors are usually appreciated. They make me feel a part of the community, a part of an inner circle, alive and valued for my opinions and needed for occasional sidewalk therapy sessions. I also get phone calls during the day from my mother-in-law, who I will write about soon because she is so crazy you cannot make up the shit she does. It’s dozens of stories just waiting to be told. And then I get phone calls from yet more neighbors and old friends. Add the emails and texts and Facebook shout-outs and I could call my various rendezvous a full-time job. Oh yeah, and there’s the kid and hubby and dog who need vast amounts of attention, too. Although I am extremely grateful for it all, sometimes it does feel like a job. And that is when I need to close the curtains, ignore the phone, and turn into a zombie watching crap TV. I need to hibernate.
I know why he’s smiling. And even though I was in the back of an SUV when I took this photo I nearly peed my pants.
I am jealous of the grizzly bear. He has full permission by the laws of nature and every other being in the universe to hole up in a dark, cozy den for enough time to totally refresh him. Why can’t humans do this? I mean, the Italians go on holiday for a month and that is pretty close. But here in America it is looked down on to even take a nap. When I see the Mexican lawn workers dozing under a Jacaranda after lunch I smile and think how brilliant that is. Good for them.
I mean, can you imagine how wonderfully relaxing it would be to know you get to stuff your face then slink off to a place where no one is asking for dinner, no one needs you to help them bandage their bloody wounds, no one is whining and complaining? No boss over your shoulder jingling the change in his pants pocket, no toilet to scrub, no errands to run in rush-hour traffic? Just you and your closest brood rebooting in slumber as the fat you just consumed melts off into oblivion. Damn you, grizzly. And you have that shiny, fluffy, beautiful coat of fur, too. And you scare the crap out of anyone who gets in your space. And YOU GET TO HIBERNATE.