Weekends fly by. That is a fact of life for people who work Monday to Friday.
The only time in my life that I did not welcome weekends was my first year of college when I was terrified of going out to parties with my hall mates. Parties, at that time, meant fraternity parties. Or sorority rush, later in the year. I never felt comfortable tagging along. I wasn’t a beer drinker then, and I’m not much of one now. I preferred squirreling away at Alderman Library, going for walks, or hiding out at my brother’s 14th Street apartment while he cooked dinner for the two of us. No Friday Night Lights for this Wahoo!
Fast forward to my Toronto years, when I spent weekends singing in my housemate’s church choir, where she directed both human and organ pipes. Or attending my other housemate’s (and boyfriend’s) evening vespers, where they sang as paid leads, alto and baritone. In later years I joined UT’s Hart House Choir, and weekends entailed Saturday morning workshops, or sessions with my roommates helping me work out my vocal parts at the harpsichord-in-residence, as I prepared for weeknight practices. Those weekends were full and fleeting.
Weekends now involve planning and preparing for Spring gardening. Hours spent outside in the late winter sun feel like mere moments, though magic ones. Then suddenly Sunday evening lands all over again.
Sunday evenings are so hard. I have a friend who gets hives when she hears the 60 Minutes show tick-tock reminding her that tomorrow is Monday. I try to bring a little weekend into the work week by doing some of the activities from the weekend during the week; like stopping in the library. Hope your week starts out well!
ReplyDeleteI hope you still sing a little in the sunshine these days! Thank goodness for asynchronous Mondays to gentle the reopening of the week.
ReplyDeleteWhat a musical past you’ve had. I suspect you may sing to your plants sometimes?
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