WORKING ON THE weekend is the most evil of all the pesky necessary evils. While everyone else is sleeping and swanning around in town, you’re hard at it – is there anything less desirable?
We’ve all had to do it at least once, it pretty much never gets any better, and it almost always goes like this.
Friday night: Resignation
So you have to work tomorrow. There’s nothing for it but to get out your biggest tea mug, order in something suitably greasy, and watch all the chat shows.
It’s fine, it’s totally fine!
Saturday morning: Bargaining
You would do anything for an extra hour in bed. Anything.
Anger
At this point, your friends and acquaintances are blearily checking their phones for the time, grinning to themselves then rolling over for another big sleep.
Saturday afternoon: Loss of reasoning
Everyone should be really nice to you for agreeing to give up your time to do this on the weekend. (They won’t be.)
Saturday evening: Temptation
On Friday night, your resolve was strong. On Saturday night, you have been weakened by a day of slog. You think you can have ‘just the one’.
YOLO!!!
After ‘the one’ you begin to experience a wicked feeling that’s all too familiar. Ah! It’s divilment. Sure will we just stay out? Won’t you be able to handle it in the morning? You will.
DON’T FALL FOR IT.
Sunday morning: Regret
You fell for it. Now you must drag your sorry butt to work again, but this time in the horrors.
Sunday afternoon: The Blame Game
You wouldn’t be like this if SOMEBODY (you, but you won’t admit that to yourself) hadn’t persuaded you to stay out.
Momentary release
Usually in the form of a chicken fillet roll for lunch. You don’t care what anyone else thinks.
Sunday evening: Triumph
Hey, look at you! You made it! You’re still alive! (Just.) Congrats. Now to put it all out of your mind. Until next time…
