Getting Better?

I'm not sure when my evolving mindset about spending a crushingly dull Saturday night at home began. Did I start getting too old to make excuses about my more frequently boring Saturday nights? When did past excitement about the magical night begin to dull? Why? Was it connected to the fact that Saturdays spent playing live music for others were farther and farther apart now?

I have no misplaced nostalgia for my years of playing almost every Saturday night. It's still easy for me to recall the uninterested faces of most of the people in those bars, etc.; few were there to hear my music. But even as my full time playing years ended, Saturday nights - even without a gig - still had a sparkle. See a friend, find a party, go to NYC. How long has this shift into a begrudging acceptance of Saturday night ennui been underway?

In my search for a silver lining, I have only this to offer. Not long ago, had someone told me they'd passed part of a Saturday evening as I did last night, I would have been insufferably smug. You were paying bills on a Saturday night? On a good day, I would have smirked at this pitiable situation. On a not-as-good day, I can hear myself snarling some sarcastic remark. Do I count it as personal growth that I'm no longer inclined to be as condescending now that my Saturday nights can be as numbing as last night was? Depends on how many neat rationalizations I need on a Sunday morning, I suppose.