It was a sad day when I discovered I no longer look forward to weekends. Or, rather, that I don’t make an emotional distinction between workday and weekend.
It’s a downside of working from home. Or rather, it’s a downside of life. Maybe it’s a downside of being Type A perfectionist. Or maybe a downside of being me. Or a downside of spending a good part of your life traveling. Either day, I am now stuck with 7 solid working days, during which I rarely sit down and work consistently in any organized fashion.
The biggest downside isn’t the exhaustion – with all this lack of structure, I get some chill time in – or the feeling of being a slob, even when you get stuff done; but really, it’s the feeling of never having time to slow down and look back.
Right now I’m working on a number of projects, reading several books in bits and bobs, here and there, (because concentration has gone out the window), and keep adding items to a huge backlog of things I want to peruse or listen to. Even that book on tidying didn’t keep me afloat for long. I’m slogging through a number of Works in Progress without any sense of where I am, what I’m doing, and how I’m doing it.
Small wonder I feel like a slob.
There’s a good reason we have weekends (other than waffle breakfasts and leisurely perusals of the newspaper, obviously) – it’s a chance to slow down, catch up, figure out where we are right now, in this point of time, and what we’re about to do. And I’m not the only one who sees the value in this – a lot of writers do. Julia Cameron insists on the importance of morning pages and artist dates. Dani Shapiro advocates for grounding activities that give you a chance for dream time. Stephen King has an ideas folder that he uses to sift out the ideas that stay from the ones that only come in passing. It’s too easy to get lost, otherwise.
This weekend, I’m off to Devon. It feels strange. Unnatural. A break. An actual break. I didn’t even break during the Christmas break, and that was a break proper. I didn’t break for New Years Day, and everyone knows it’s the one day it’s totally acceptable to sleep in. What is this even?
I know, brain. I know.
I look forward to it.