I can remember back to a time when I had to work at an office job for 5 days out of the week. I would be up early in the morning to do all of the pre-work stuff like devotionals, running, showering, getting dressed, making a lunch and eating breakfast. Then it was off to the office for 8 hours of staring at a computer monitor. At the end of the day I got to wake up, go back home, do a few small chores, eat dinner, read for a bit and then off to bed. An unending cycle only broken by the weekend. Aw, glorious weekends. Two whole days to do most anything I wanted to. Sunday morning was devoted to church, but that still gave me a day and a half.
The only problem with all that time off was deciding what to do with it. Would I stay home and do chores or try to get out and do something else. Seldom was there time to do both. And it seemed like all too often the chores won out. But still, I wasn’t in the office and my time was my own. And the thing I choose to do held a special place.
But then last year my weekends started to come apart. It all started when I became a part time employee, getting every Friday off. Little did I realize what that would do to my weekends. Now, instead of a day and a half off I had 2 1/2 days off every week. That sounds good, and at first it was. Now I could do my long run of the week on Friday or Saturday. I could take a hike one day and mow the lawn the other. The problem was that the weekend was no longer quite as special; it had been diluted by becoming so much closer in size to the work week. But still, eventually I lusted after even more time off. Oh to be able to take a two day hike, spend a day in the yard and another with my church family. What could possibly be better than that.
And then last week my dream came true. I was laid off from the office and retained by my employer to do a bit of telecommuting. Now I didn’t have to get up and shower, make a lunch and trudge off to work. I could just climb out of bed, walk 15 feet to my desk and laptop and do my goofing off at home, unwashed and in my PJ’s. Could it get any better?
However, too late I realized that this led to the demise of my cherished weekends. When you don’t have a work week, there is no weekend. Every day is the nearly the same. Other than Sunday it’s hard to remember even what day it is. I can do yard work every day of the week, as well as take a long run, sleep in or do any number of other things that used to compete for my Saturdays. And once warmer and drier weather returns I can go up into the mountains any time I want and for as long as I want. Now, instead of being special, these things are just routine and ordinary.
I miss you weekend, may you rest in peace!