As I age, I begin to see how short weekends actually are.
I can recall when I was younger how Friday hit and I had all three days to sit back, party and have a great time.
Friday night was the starter pistol if you will. We were off. Fun made the turn with foolishness close behind and irresponsibility on the outside. Saturday the three were on the straightaway and gaining momentum and there were a few lead changes. Sunday they were on the home stretch and no one knew who was going to take the win.
All in all I would finish Sunday with a bang and would often carry the weekend over to Monday night. Tuesday through Thursday were casual nights — no out-of-town adventures, just hometown fun.
Now Friday comes around and I get out of work and hope I am not too tired to go out and spend time with my friends and family. At times, to be honest, going home and reading a book or watching a movie is very tempting.
Saturday mornings I work on getting all my must-do stuff out of the way and that is only if I am not covering something. Saturday nights I still live it up every once and awhile. Sundays have become the day of rest and recovery and I can usually be found watching football in one of two locations.
While at a birthday party on a recent Sunday I talked with an old high school friend about the good ol’ days and how we used to live it up. Those stories soon faded with the laughter from each of us about how now the weekend goes by so fast and it takes a toll on us in the process.
We both went out on a Saturday night and had a good time — not a crazy, full out take-no-prisoners night, but a hey it’s great to get out and have fun kind of night. We both felt OK the next day but we were happy it was an easy day.