It’s embarrassing to admit, but I’m not very good at weekends.
I spend all week looking forward to Friday, that glorious day when the whole weekend stretches ahead, full of possibility and relaxation.
But in reality, my weekend is often a bit disappointing. It’s full of housework and sitting around thinking that I should be doing something more exciting, while I scroll through Facebook for the tenth time and sink deeper into a hole of depressing news stories on the iPad.
There’s a bit of worrying about work, and thinking of all the things I’ve got to do on Monday.
Usually, the weekend passes by in a blur and I don’t do enough of the things I always plan to: curling up with a good book, watching that film I’ve been meaning to get round to, catching up on blog posts, or working on my novel.
I don’t know where the time goes.
The best weekends are the ones where we’re away somewhere, exploring and getting away from the everyday routine. Those are the weekends where I forget about the things that stress me, and I feel like life is good.
But I’ve always had a hard time living in the moment. My brain won’t sit quietly and enjoy the downtime; instead it races off to the next thing and worries endlessly, if there’s nothing to distract it.
That means I’m one of those annoying people who’s never satisfied. I always want to be somewhere else. When I have plans, I often long for the sofa and a restful, lazy couple of days off. But when I have nowhere to be, I feel frustrated and wish I was out doing something fun.
It’s a no win situation. Yet all I have to do is sit back and relax, and appreciate what’s happening around me.
Maybe one day I’ll learn how to manage it, and weekends will be great, whatever they look like!