Saturday: a discussion.

On Friday nights I always say, 'I'm going to sleep until I wake up.' The fact of saying it, and not setting an alarm, feels luxurious. It feels like Saturday should feel.

That said, what usually happens is I wake up about the same time I usually do. This is especially true right now, because of the light, which streams in the window in the morning.

NOTE on the light streaming in the window, but at night: People who want to tell you how to get better sleep tell you to make the room as dark as possible. I think this is swell advice. But what about the moon? Don't they want to see the moon before they fall asleep?

This morning, as usual, no alarm, but we were still up plenty early. I woke up feeling various aches and I shifted, tried to redistribute them, closed my eyes, and still: awake. I got up and made pancakes, also the breakfast Saturday breakfast should be.

We talked a little bit about the news. No joy there, the people. How did the blowhardiest of all possible blowhards get to occupy so much airspace? I ask you. Talking about that (pardon my language) weasel/tyrant/fascist/awful man is no way whatsoever to begin a Saturday. So I went into my study and graded a student assignment, from all the students. That was satisfying. It purged, at least to a degree, the Drumpf from my Saturday space.

I decided this week that I would go into my office on Saturday for purposes of 'drafting' the 'thing,' which I did not, in fact, get written during the week, thus putting the heat on, so to speak, my weekend schedule.

IN WHICH I INTERJECT AN 'ON THE ONE HAND/ON THE OTHER HAND' DILEMMA: 

On the one hand, going into the office on the weekend is a punishment, almost by definition. What dummy manages to so thoroughly botch the workweek that working on the weekend is necessary? Well, most teachers, for one. And, anyway, on the other hand, I like my office, and going there on the weekend is actually kind of great because there is no one there and the quiet is palpable and lustrous. Also, before I went to my office, I stopped at Target and bought (a) a new tee shirt (irrelevant), (b) a new Tracy Andersen workout DVD, stop me I'm crazy (also irrelevant), and (c) a box of Triscuits (relevant, because:) So I had snacks, including an apple and cheese I carried in my bag. So my office was, it must be said, pretty deluxe this afternoon.

The big giant takeaway of my afternoon session in the office is that I have 'drafted' more than half of the 'thing,' and that felt ultra satisfying. Like, I can do all the difficult things satisfying. Like maybe actually do the Tracy Andersen workouts and make dinner several nights next week and finish the curriculum and do all the grading and triumph over evil and, you know, make sure that a certifiable ASS does not become president of the United States next year. That's how powerful, is what.

I left the office and drove down to meet my mother and sisters for Paint Night. Or, to be precise, Paint Nite, which stages a select painting as an event for gathered people--mostly women--to paint the same picture with the able guidance of a local painter. It was my sister's idea, and it was a dang good one. We had a blast--first we had soup and sandwiches, then we went to a hotel lobby where the event was set up. We painted with acrylics for two hours, totally absorbing and, thus, relaxing.

our paintings of multicolored trees. 

Tomorrow, I will use my powers for good by:

1. putting away my winter sweaters, since there is nothing that makes me feel more like spring is really on its way than putting away my sweaters.
2. 'drafting' the remainder of the 'thing'--I have an outline and momentum.
3. grade some more.
4. finishing the curriculum, ugh, and
5. cooking dinner like a righteous person.

Hashtag the weekend: out.

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