Ever find yourself on a two-day quest called 'The Weekend', where you're not really searching for dragons or hidden treasure, but for something much more elusive - genuine rest? Me too. Let's take a trip down my not-so-magical weekend rabbit hole, shall we?
Saturdays begin with my version of a thrilling game of hide and seek: my phone being 'it', tucked away in the drawer. You'd think being off the grid would be liberating, but it feels more like I'm on the run from the technology mafia. My trusty phone, once my loyal aid, has now turned into my weekday overlord. If it buzzes, I jump. If it rings, I bolt.
To keep my mind off the forbidden fruit that is my phone, I opt for a healthy diet of Netflix marathons. Ten episodes, two bowls of popcorn, and countless plot twists later, I've only managed to wile away half of my weekend. My victory dance feels suspiciously like a shuffle of defeat.
So, I resort to 'leisure' pursuits. Like a romantic date where I'm physically present but mentally I'm drafting emails and making presentations. Or a fun play session with my nephews where I'm building Lego forts but in my mind, I'm fortifying strategies for the impending work week. It's a carnival of worry, and I have an all-access pass!
Then, Sunday night arrives, with a side of cold, clammy dread. As the hours until Monday melt away, I feel like Cinderella at the ball, waiting for the spell to break, and my carriage to turn back into a work-laden pumpkin.
By Monday, guilt takes over. Not because I failed to accomplish anything productive, but because I didn't fully cherish my unproductive moments either. My weekend respite feels like a work-week hangover.
But amidst the chaos, there's a small voice in me that wonders, will there ever be a time when I can savor my days off, sans worries? A time when I don’t anticipate the work week with dread, but approach my weekend with joy?
I long for that day when my weekend can be more about the rest in 'rest days' and less about the work in 'workweek'. Where my Saturdays are no longer about hiding from my phone, but about immersing in the world outside the screen.
I dream of a Sunday where the only 's' word I associate it with is 'serenity' not 'scaries'. A Sunday where I retire to bed not with the worry of Monday but with the memories of a well-lived weekend.
Here's to hoping that someday, I'll welcome my weekends not with the apprehension of unproductivity, but with the promise of leisure and peace. And perhaps, just perhaps, I might even have a weekend technology detox.
After all, we can dream, can’t we? And until then, there’s always the next episode, more popcorn, and that dauntingly familiar thrill of an unread work email waiting for my Monday morning attention.
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