When working and weekends don’t mix

I’ve had a beauty of a weekend. Saturday was a real doona day, where most of the day was spent flopped on the couch in my pjs, playing Sims3 and annoying the crap out of my husband, who is a workaholic and does not see the point of playing games. I have to work very hard to keep my game play out of the weekdays, but it is important to my sanity that I have down time from the week, which has usually involved my head exploding from too much convoluted thinking. Hubby huffed and puffed his way around Saturday, meaning that he put clothes on the line and got grumpy because I hadn’t DONE anything. At least, that’s my reading of it. I think he thinks I am lazy, which I am, on the weekend at any rate. Saturday night I cooked food, we ate, I watched the third in the series of Jurassic Park, which I had been half watching all day. Sunday was only marginally more productive. I managed to arise, eventually, hubby having gone to adjudicate singers on the Gold Coast, and spent another lovely day messing about on the computer, doing some light housework, going shopping ($400 on food alone!) and, when hubby arrived home, taking the dog for a walk. I needed this weekend to be like this – I had too much work during the week, not much of it my own PhD.

Speaking of which, now is the time to get back to the grind. Getting my hair cut today, so didn’t travel into uni, but am now procrastinating about doing the next transcription! Oy vey. Will I never learn.



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