Until recently, I've never really understood those living for the weekend types - those people that just laze about on a Sunday morning in bed, as those mornings were so precious to me. Since about half-way through my seventeenth year, until just a few months ago (about eight years year, I shudder), I'd worked every Sunday, pretty much. The nearest I got to a 'lazy Sunday' was the shop I worked in being quiet on a rainy morning.
And recently, I've had some pretty packed weekends - which has been so great, don't get me wrong! It's a weird thing, transitioning from shift work to a regular 9-5, because suddenly all your friends are free when you are! You don't have to uhm and aah over making plans 2 weeks in advance because you don't know your schedule. It's been lovely - I've been loitering around London most weekends, seeing exhibitions and catching up with friends I haven't seen for far too long. I helped treat my parents to a fancy lunch, been to the beach and all manner of activities.
But this weekend, I have had a change of pace... I've got literally no plans, no-where to be and nothing to do. I have the house to myself all weekend, I've slept in late, brought my giant cafetiere up to my bed so I could have coffee all morning, and have just chilled. As I write this it's almost two o'clock, I have all the windows open to let in the warm breeze, and I've painted my nails a bright green and caught up on the last couple of episodes of Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell (please tell me someone else is loving this as much as me?!). That is about the extent of my day. I might go get a burrito for lunch, and I have to put some flowers in some water, but that's about it.
What are you upto this weekend?
