Saturday mornings are great. You get to decide whether you want to wake up at normal time, or stay in bed just that bit longer. There’s absolutely no rush to do anything. A second cup of coffee? Sure, you have time for that. Spend an hour on twitter before you even physically get out of the bed? Sure, you can do that. You shouldn’t, but you perfectly can.
Sunday mornings don’t feel that way, because you know you’ve got to prepare for Monday. You can’t afford to be lackadaisical and wasting time. There’s stuff to do, errands to run, groceries to buy. On Saturday, however, all of that can be pushed to Sunday. You shouldn’t, but you perfectly can.
I don’t envy my friends who has two kids. They don’t get to enjoy this blissful period of no responsibility on Saturday mornings. Their young rug-rats probably wakes up before they do. So what are they to do? Not get up and feed them? For the many joys there are in child-rearing, I am in no speed to join my friends in taking on that responsibility.
I rather like my Saturday morning of solitude. Once the clock hits noon, however, it’s time to get to the weekend work. While I can indeed do absolutely nothing today and procrastinate all of the errands to Sunday, I know I am going to feel crap about that once Sunday actually arrives.
Best to split the load between the two days of the weekend. Take care, everyone!
We’re almost there.