On Mondays I always look back on my weekend with a sense of longing… Longing to feel unhurried, unstressed, unscheduled. Longing to be home, surrounded by my loves, living life with each moment.
But the weekend, as lovely as it is, is only part of my life. In fact, while it may make up 90% of what I love about my life, it only consists of 28% of my actual living…
This past weekend was filled with productivity. While Husband cooked up a storm in the kitchen, the rest of the house got a spectacular cleaning. The filing got done, and the filing cabinet even got organized (these kinds of things bring me no end of joy). Out-of-town friends dropped by for a quick tour of the house and garden before heading off again, a birthday party for little ones offered enough sugar and squeals of laughter to last a lifetime.
There were little things, like pairing brown and gray together for the first time (I’m a rule follower–like goes with like–but this time breaking the rules was fun…)
And I found a perfect-for-me, like-new leather purse at the thrift store for $10, it’s a Tyler Rodan handbag that normally goes for $89–these finds always make me happy. We went to the yarn store to pick up another skein so I can continue my wrap. We picked out a copy of Winnie-the-Pooh and The Secret Garden to donate to the Girls and Boys Club; I like to think that somewhere a little girl or boy is being exposed to some of the greatest children’s literature ever written for the very first time.
Husband and I even had a few uninterrupted hours to make homemade pizza, enjoy the use of a private hot tub and settle in to watch a movie. Sometimes these little things really do make all the difference. Because, really, life is in the little things.
Ginger and I had some quality time together…and proved that sitting still for photos isn’t one of her strong suits.
I woke up this morning refreshed, but not quite ready to face another week. That seems to be how it goes. I’m not sure if it’s the sudden loss of time spent with Husband, the necessity of rushing home to clean stalls or the thought of sitting at a desk for nine hours that gets me, but something about a Monday morning makes me long for the weekend.
The funny thing is, I don’t dislike our weekday life. In fact, I love my job. And I treasure the fact that I get to see my horse so regularly. And Wednesday night small group is one of the highlights of our week.
Perhaps it is less the things we DO during the week but rather HOW we do them that I regret. Hurried. Stressed. Busy. Always checking the clock. Always one more thing to get done. Never enough time. Never fulfilled.
I guess I’m unsure how to implement the weekend rhythm to our weekday life…I’ve tried, but rather unsuccessfully. Maybe instead of trying harder as I always do, I need to try smarter. Maybe there is a way, a theory, an approach as yet undiscovered by me that can transfer the rhythmic productivity to the chaotic rush. Maybe.