I know that the Bible states that “six days shall you labor and rest to honor me on the seventh,” but I am SOOOO grateful that our modern culture gives us TWO days, the weekend, to relax, instead of just one day. I LIVE for the weekends. Mondays are dreadful days, Tuesdays see a little life draining back into the corpse, Wednesdays are “hump” days, where you cross the mountaintop towards the weekend, Thursdays are pretty OK, and Fridays are super-duper wonderful-fantastic. Saturdays and Sundays are heavenly, even if I do nothing. ESPECIALLY if I do nothing!
Some of my best times ever were on the weekends. Camping trips, concerts, theme park visits, other special, once-in-a lifetime events all happened on the weekend. Those are the times when your soul is rejuvenated and energized and made whole once again: only to face another humdrum week of work. Work truly IS a four-letter word, in all that implies. I know I have to work, because I was not born independently wealthy, and I have to earn my living, or I will be a bum, which was never my life’s goal for an occupation. However, the vacations from work, like the magical weekends, are pretty special times for me, and for nearly everyone else that I know. Still, if every day was a weekend, then they would no longer be special, so I guess I will just wait impatiently for the next one.