I thought about posting something nostalgic yesterday, but time got away from me- which is rather ironic because yesterday, I did absolutely nothing except cook lunch, then dinner, and cleaned up in-between. In other words, time was on my side. The couch and I have been reuniting as of late and let me tell you, it's been a long time coming.
A few weekends ago, I remarked to the husband that I had developed a love/hate relationship with the weekend. To be more specific, Sunday had become the day of dread simply because Monday was the train wreck that could not be avoided. As a result, Sunday was spent watching the clock and bemoaning each passing hour and every bit of work-work that I had to cram into that given day.
(Work-work as in paycheck work, not the payless work found in everyday housework... definitely worth making the distinction).
So, the man in whom I have become so dependent on to keep me sane grew silent- which is unusual in itself, took a long breath, and looked me straight in the eye. Being the dreamer that I am, I anticipated his next words to be something along the line of "Well, just quit."
I was also once a sixteen year-old girl who was convinced my dad was going to find a way to get that 1986 Mustang GT Convertible, white with red leather interior, from the showroom floor just for me- or, at the very least, bring home that snazzy, red Pontiac Fiero from the used lot.
Like I said, I'm a bit of a dreamer.
Alas, much like the unattainable dream of a sports car at sixteen, the husband did not tell me to quit or produce a winning lotto ticket or empathize with me for even a minute. To my teary tirade of what a mess Sunday has become for me mentally, he simply and matter-of-factly stated, "Then take your Sunday back."
With those words, which were oddly enough said on a Sunday morning, he turned and walked away, leaving me reeling in wave after wave of emotion and thought. Take my Sunday back? Such a ludicrous phrase, and yet I couldn't help but wonder. It sounded just crazy enough to work. After all, the man has never led me astray to date. I took his words to heart and two weekends later, I have done just that. I'm still in the beginning phase and not totally convinced that I'll be able to keep this up, but I am much more relaxed and as a result, determined to make this the new normal. I have also been more focused during the actual week knowing that, as Ecclesiastes says, there's a time for everything.
For the record, the first Sunday was rough. Every hour I would head to my laptop just to remind myself, "Nope." I fought off feelings of guilt and laziness and a general sense of "not good enough." But I also cooked a guiltless dinner for my family because I wasn't cranky and took my time cleaning because there was nothing sitting in a queue for the printer to print. I went to bed relatively relaxed and still managed to have a successful Monday even though I had not spent the Sunday prior staring at a screen.
So that's why the couch and I have become reunited. I've watched tv and read an actual book and napped at random times. I even decided to jump on this cobweb-encrusted blog as you can see (or read). If I keep this up, those freed-up Sundays might just produce that spark for which I've been waiting.
Better rest up.
Side Note: It's been a little over 2 months now, but Benny Boy left us for greener pastures and unlimited birds to chase. Those who have been around here for a while will know him. He was always my writing buddy and my constant companion back during those long days at home. I miss him dearly.
