Dear weekend,

I liked how you contained a movie and a dinner and picture time with my son and his family. I liked how you contained waking up late(r) this morning. I also liked how I got to spend time with my cherished colleagues, even though (and here's where "like" would be the wrong verb) that time was in the context of a little academic conference.

I liked the conference, but I am not sure I liked the fact that you, weekend, also contained a conference presentation that I was preparing for up till the minute, practically, that I presented it. That kind of activity is antithetical to "Saturday," which, as you know, is approximately half of what you are made of.

Still: we got through it, weekend. And now you are over. So I am going to bed, to wake up to the week. Which, frankly, feels a little bit like a relief.

How do you feel about that, weekend? Shoe's on the other foot, right?

It's a paradox,

htms