Prior to stopping full time work, Fridays preceding three day weekends were simultaneously delicious and unnerving.
I'm guessing the delicious part needs no explaining. The unnerving part goes hand-in-hand with my lifelong predilection for allowing goals to interfere with moments. Before early 2010, many of the "to do" lists I constructed as a three day weekend approached were scary. Musical goals, reading/writing goals and exercise goals stood in direct opposition to home maintenance, family responsibilities and a host of necessary yet utterly mundane matters. Any of this sound familiar?
The internal conflict created by these opposing forces sometimes shut me down. On a good three day weekend, I'd bounce back sometime on Saturday. On a bad one, Monday would arrive with the goals AND the other stuff having received zero attention. Anyone sharing my "to do" affliction knows the torment of seeing nothing scratched off a newly developed list. The horror.
Today, like most of the Fridays preceding three day weekends since 2010, feels wholly delicious. Still, it's easy to recall that old unnerving feeling. My antidote? Letting a wise song lyric seep into my goal-oriented brain - "These are the good old days." Would have been good to use this during the full time work years, right? But hey, better late than never.