I love Saturday morning.
I could probably end the blog there and everyone would understand, but I’ll elaborate. I love being able to get breakfast without rushing. I love being able to wake up slow.
Not a lot of things happen slowly in my life, and the things that do are things I get frustrated at. If something happens slowly, it’s usually something that could happen more quickly, and therefore is wasting my time.
I get to work half an hour early to be sure I won’t be late. Being late scares me. I like doing things by the rules, I like being on time, I like doing things right. I causes me to rush–I rush to get there early.
I know the world won’t end if I arrive late (or on time). I know I’m just an intern, I know I’m so far from vital it’s not even funny. But I still want to do a good job at it. And my classes. And that’s where a lot of my stress comes from, trying to do everything perfectly, putting my best into everything I do.
So I love Saturday morning. Because I’m allowed to waste some time. I’m allowed to let homework wait until tomorrow, and not get dressed until the afternoon. It’s kind of the only time I get a break, since Saturday night I’m obligated to go out and have fun, and Sunday I’m obligated to prepare for the week. A few hours to myself…coffee, blankets, television…for once the world is being perfect to me, rather than me having to be perfect for the world.