On Fridays after work, I feel like a zombie with a headache. I walk in the door, sit at the dining room table, and stare into space for a good thirty minutes, often more. I then struggle to make my way upstairs.
After a relatively easy week, when the headache isn't terrible, once in my room, I sit at the computer hoping to get some writing done. I never do. Instead, I surf the internet for another hour or so, staring unseeing at the screen. After a bad week, I just crawl into bed.
I don't expect much of Friday evenings, they are merely time for existence, passivity, zombietude.
On the other hand, I do have expectations of Saturdays. Saturdays are for catching up, on my rest, on emails, on writing. On Saturdays I get to sleep in, fully intending to get to work once I feel refreshed. Except that more often than not, I wake up with a headache and I stay in bed most of the day, reading, dozing. Come bedtime, finally headache-free, I always feel disappointed in myself, guilty. At the very least I should have got some writing done, even just a page, or a paragraph, perhaps just some editing. I should definitely have answered a few key emails. I should have...
This Saturday, however, was different. As I lay in bed resting, dozing off and on, my thoughts roaming all over the place, I had an epiphany. It occurred to me that I obviously need to continue my Friday zombietude into Saturday. Why bring on the guilt?
Instead of making all those plans, having all those expectations of myself, I should approach it as a day of rest, a day of lazing around in bed, reading, dozing. And if by some chance, I feel refreshed before bedtime, I can then do something more active, if I like it. And see it as an unexpected bonus if I do.