I realized, last night, that I have some extra activity throwing me out into the world EVERY night this week, after enduring going to work. The stress builds onto me and I start to think, I need a day off. From everything. I don’t get a day off until maybe Saturday, whereupon I will sleep in a tiny bit, make waffles, and clean house, and I may binge watch something on Netflix. Boring boring boringboringboring, but oh so satisfying. If I get ambitious maybe I can work on some pet projects. I hope that happens, but if not, I hope it’s ok and doesn’t come back to bite me. I’ve got things that need to be done, but they’re not urgenturgent, they just have to be done and they are on a deadline it’s just not a pressing deadline. But I do need some down time.
I’m craving waffles and real maple syrup, and sausage, and maybe even scrambles, with onions, green bell peppers, and cheese, and hot salsa… And a screwdriver, which is truly the best part of my plans for waking up on Saturday. Just to celebrate the fact that I don’t have to go out anywhere. The best part of my hopes for Saturday are to spend a little time with Mrs. M., unfettered by too much shit to do. I will do my best to make that hope a reality. That is, until she makes me get out of bed and starts in with the list of shit she wants me to see if I can accomplish at home, added to what I routinely will clean and maintain. Yeah, that’s why I’m making the waffles, because I don’t want her to “have to do that” and have that guilt trip hanging over my head in addition to the list.
That said, thank GOD Saturday is almost here. I get to go at my pace, mostly, not rush here and there, all jeebyheebynillywilly. I LIKE my pace, which is, in words, if it gets done, fine, if it doesn’t get done, fuckit, it wasn’t important. I hate it when it has to be done, right NOW OR ELSE!, which is why I hate the list. I mean, I’ll do it, but I want to work it at my pace or skip it if it doesn’t get done. I might take a nap on Saturday too, if I can fit it into the day and find some quiet.
The fucking neighbor blared his idiot music last time I wanted a nap and had a time to do it, thump, fuckingthump, FUCKYOUNEDFLANDERSTHUMP! and I couldn’t get to sleep. If that happens this weekend, I will go out, in my flannel, nondescript, comfortable pajamas, find the fucker, whomever he is, ask him to turn it down nicely, and if he declines, put my chef’s knife through his damned speaker cords.
If I did much social networking beyond this blog (which I largely do at my pace, which is why you don’t see a lot of weekend postings) and twitter (which I largely ignore), I would be (more than already) completely bonkers mad. I think people need margin in their lives, which is to say this:
People need enough control of their lives to be able, at least some of the time, to say, fuck this thing you want me to do, fuck this place you want me to go, fuck this timespan you want me to accomplish whatevershit within, fuck the methods and parameters you prescribe and want it done by, and while we’re at it, fuck off yourself, I’m taking a fucking break. I will always go to the store to buy milk, I will always venture out to provide rescue transportation to my family, but if I don’t have to go out, I wish I had the liberty to not go. Sometimes you need a break. Sometimes you just need to take a nap. Well, I do.
Home made waffles…and a screwdriver to go with my morning coffee. As a general rule I shy away from alcohol on weekdays, and don’t binge on the weekends. It would be too easy (but too expensive in both long and short run) to make that a habit. One or two are enough for me. But fuck yeah, I’m having a screwdriver Saturday morning. It’s been a busy week. Too fucking busy. I hope next week settles down and doesn’t demand too much.
If not, I may take an executive action and figure out what I can push aside. It won’t be Mrs. M; I want her close. I want her VERY close. So close, she can’t reach for a pen and a pad to make a damn list.