Every other week, E has a three day weekend. This is because his company employs the 9/80 work week. He works 80 hours in 9 days instead of 10. This is wonderful. Every other week, E and I get an extra day to do with as we please. Sometimes we run errands, sometimes we clean the house, and sometimes we spend that day doing absolutely nothing together. I love long weekends. Who doesn’t? You wake up on Sunday morning, except you realize it’s Saturday and you have a whole other day of freedom, what could be better?
Long weekends are especially restorative for me. (I just tried to type normally and my phone thought I meant hootenanny. Hootenanny? Really?… ) Normally, E and I spend our weekends negotiating the balance between together time and alone time. Since I work from home, I spend too much a lot of time by myself. I have dogs, but they are pretty crappy conversationalists. So by the time E gets home from work, I am typically starved desperate starved for human interaction.
If you work outside of your home, you can see the trouble coming. E spends all day with coworkers. His job is frequently busy and demanding, nevermind the fact that he typically gets up between 5 and 6am every morning. When he gets home around 430, he is exhausted and worn out. He is also in the military, so at least three times a week, he comes home and goes for a run or a workout. And sometimes he has to bring work home. When all of that is taken care of, all he wants to do is relax in his own way, surfing the internet, playing a video game, etc. Understandably, he likes to turn off his brain. And come Friday, he needs to recharge: sleep in, have fun, and spend time alone. All of this is very reasonable, but frequently at odds with my needs. And so weekends are a constant dance which usually end with me feeling sad and lonely on Sunday evenings because he has to go to work in the morning. This is partly a normal response to how much time I spend alone and partly my mental illness. I don’t do transition well. And the two day weekend turnaround is too quick for me. It takes me several hours or all of Friday evening to adjust to E being around a lot and then all day Sunday for me to adjust to the fact that he won’t be around. It leaves very little time for enjoying each other.
And so, three day weekends are glorious. Plenty of time to adjust on both ends, with a perfect amount of time to enjoy ourselves in between. And the extra day gives us more than enough time to negotiate plenty of alone time for E and plenty of together time for us both.
The moral of the story is that E and I had a fabulous weekend of which, Friday we did virtually nothing, Saturday we hung out with friends, and Sunday we ran errands. The perfect balance, in my opinion. I feeling filled up and ready for the week.
I am tiring of socks. That is all.