I’ve come to realize something about myself: during the week, I’m a bastion of productivity. I wake up early, go to work, sometimes work out (but not as often as I should, I’ll be honest). I’ll run errands during my lunch break and dutifully mow the lawn when I get home. I’ve even been known to attend an event or two during the week and get together with friends for happy hour. But Friday night through Monday morning it’s another story, as I undergo a transformation into Worthless Weekend Liz.
Like a Jekyll and Hyde of motivation, I go from a whirlwind work week to a weekend of total sloth. Prior to Friday, I’ll have grand plans concocted in my head of the things I want to see, eat, and do over the weekend. I check the weekend forecast as early as Monday morning before work, psyching myself up for the nice weather to come on two whole days off in a row. But once Saturday morning rolls around, I can’t seem to muster the motivation to do, well, anything. Take this last weekend, for example. I was supposed to complete an online defensive driving course (don’t judge; I like to drive fast), swim laps, and hit up Target on Sunday morning for a designer collaboration launch. Did I do any of these things? Nooooope. But I’ll tell you what I DID do: I read Mindy Kaling’s new book, which may not have been the best thing for me given Kaling’s “we’re all best friends here; let me totally suck you in with some of my great stories about celebrities and making it in Hollywood” tone and my proclivity for laziness. Lying in bed and reading a book for the better part of two days is glorious, and don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.
Weekend Liz don’t care.
I’m not sure when this shift happened. I didn’t always used to be this way: quite the opposite, in fact. From 2007 through 2009 I worked full time and went to grad school at night: I wrote papers, read, and studied on the weekends. Hell, after grad school I had a full-time job, a part-time job, and trained for half marathons. What changed? Did I come to a certain age and it’s like my will to do anything but be horizontal was completely wiped out? Ooh, and did I mention I love to sleep? Maybe I should be one of those people NASA pays to sleep for nine months and have your body studied in horrifyingly granular levels of detail. Hey, it remains an option is all I’m saying.
Instead of getting out of the house to do something, anything, I’ll lay flat on my back in bed, firmly ensconced under the sheets, getting lost in a Facebook friends-of-friends search spiral and going down Wikipedia wormholes, where time and space seem to not exist for hours at a time. Does anyone else do this (who will admit to it?) Am I the only noodle-willed shut-in who exists more or less at home on the weekends, exerting as little effort as humanly possible?
This coming weekend is the first round of ACL, and you can bet I’m not going to be anywhere near the chaos and mayhem that will be most of central Austin. I may just hole up in bed for the duration, getting up only for biological reasons, so if I don’t answer a text/email/post pigeon for help on Saturday and Sunday, now y’all know why.
‘Til Monday, peeps.