It’s a rare weekend when I have nothing on the schedule for a weekend. And it just happened to line up this time, with a three-day weekend, which is a nice occurrence.
I spent the majority of Friday evening and all of Saturday sitting on the couch beside my lovely wife, which I never get to do. In that time, I read a book, talked a lot and wrote a shade over 5,000 words on a story I’m working on. Seeing that my writing doesn’t pay anything yet, I count it as relaxing.
Overall, I went into Monday feeling more relaxed than I had in a very, very long time.
And then, yesterday, I decided it was finally time to clean out the garage. I spent about nine hours in the hot garage, only managed to clean half of it and still, the day after, feel terrible. In one fell swoop I completely ruined days of hard relaxation. And the sad thing is if you open my garage you can’t tell I did anything. After dragging everything out, I began throwing crap away. So far I’ve filled up about six trash bags worth of stuff. The real problem is trash pick up won’t happen again for a week. Which means I had to put all the bags of trash right back in the garage. So, that nice and warm I-have-a-clean-garage feeling won’t be happening for another week or so. I feel robbed.
Also I became the worst dad ever when I promised to take the kids to see Iron Man 2, only to fail, twice.
So, that’s how I ruined a perfectly good three-day weekend. How was yours?