Friday when I left school I looked like a pack mule. Toting my laptop, my purse, my lunchbox, and my file carrier (full of papers to grade), my weekend plans were clear. I would be working.
The reality has been quite the opposite. Saturday I woke up early to run errands without the crowds, then made casseroles to help a couple families. I watched two basketball games. After dropping off dinner, I settled on my couch, resigned to attack the work I had lugged home.
Instead, I ended up at a friend’s house for a couple of hours, just chatting and snacking. I was home before 10, but so exhausted that I fell into bed soon after.
This morning was church, and laundry, a little more basketball, and in a couple of hours I’ll head to my sister’s to celebrate my niece’s 2nd birthday. After the chaos of 4 kids and cake, I predict I’ll end up at home, watch the Oscars and sleep.
All that work I brought home–it sits in the corner, and I’m not going to get to any of it. But I think I needed this weekend off. It wasn’t packed with activity, but it wasn’t bare. And the more I think about it, this weekend in particular I needed to not work, because the week ahead is monumental:
It’s the first week since September that I will be in the building every single day.
Wonder how I’ll handle that…