Everybody's workin' for the weekend.

It's not at all a new revelation that most of the working population craves weekends. What do most of us do when the weekends come? Abso-freakin'-lutely nothing. We sit around bemoaning the fact that the next work day is only days or hours away. Last weekend, I tried to break out of my working person's weekend rut. I set out to please myself all weekend-long. And, no dirty little children, I don't mean that sexually - at least not entirely.

My battle was uphill from the start. I had to work until almost 9 p.m. Friday night. By the time I got home, I was ready to blow off some serious steam. From my previous post, you know that I did do my grocery shopping, and yes, like the little OCD girl I am, I cleaned my apartment. Instead of spending time moping, however, I indulged. I watched an old Audrey Hepburn movie that I'd Netflixed weeks ago, but had spent too much time wallowing to watch. I caught a preview screening of a quality chick flick. I bought cute socks and underwear, just because I felt like it. I ordered a cute new bag online. I slept until at least 10:30 a.m. both days. I ate seriously tasty Thai food. I ran, long and hard until all the week's jitters and stress were a distant memory. By Sunday night, I was eating the meal I cooked for fun and watching Grey's Anatomy, one of the best shows on television. It was perfect, but in all its perfection came the stark contrast of the week to come. So, like every other Sunday night, insomnia set in and I listened to the clock tick tock away the remaining moments of the luscious weekend.

I still think there's something to this whole enjoy every moment business. I also think a therapist could retire on my case alone.