I hate weekends

I have no particular objection to wasted days. They can be a bit tedious, but sometimes just sitting in the park or the cafe (oh, how painfully bohemian...) and not achieving anything concrete is something of an achievement in itself. I seem to spend most of my time attached to a newspaper, a cigarette and a coffee anyway.

Weekends, though, are bloody awful. From Friday evening, when I tend to go home as I'm exhausted, till Monday morning I can quite easily not talk to anyone. I don't mean 'not have a conversation with anyone'; I mean 'not talk to anyone'. My computer is working less than well at the moment, so the ubiquitous MSN/AIM/Yahoo are not working. This weekend past, I did go out and so on, but it's all too easy, as I'm reminded at the moment with the night stretching ahead of me, to be awake because it's not time to go to bed yet.

Weekends are an unwelcome interruption to the community life we set up for ourselves. We bang on about waiting ofr the weekend so that we can rest, but when it comes and we've rested, we ended up waiting for Monday so we can do something. At least, I do. It seems that we focus on our working selves so much that we forget how to use leisure time for anything other than rebuilding our reserves for the return to work.

I end up hanging around. I don't do any work, mostly because I don't like working on Sundays, Saturday mornings I'm out campaigning and I'm too tired (read: lazy) in the afternoons. After nine months of having nothing to do, I should be brilliant at making use of my leisure time. Actually, that's unfair, as for quite a lot of that time, buying a newspaper and bringing it home to read was an achievement. Nevertheless, the point stands. As I'm coming up to leaving the palace of variety that is the LSE, I am aware that is a real risk of my having lots of time with nothing to do. I make bold plans when people ask me about taking photos and writing this thrice-accursed book (I actually have a few ideas knocking around... may stick a post up about them at some point) but, realistically, I will probably end up taking a random job for something to do. If i had the discipline to organise myself, I could do something about it but, realistically, I don't and I wouldn't,

Oh, I can't wait for retirement. Or the next time I take time off for ill health. Or the next long holiday. Hip, hip hoo-fucking-ray.

Anyway. I've just ordered a pizza online so I don't have to talk to anyone.



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