I don’t know about you, but my weekend never feels long enough. Even when I don’t have an event to cover, there just never seems to be enough hours in those two measly days to adequately decompress from one week and mentally prepare myself for the one to come.
When Sunday night rolls around, I can feel all that work related tension starting to build again. The very act of setting my alarm for Monday morning is enough to make me weep openly.
At the first trilling of said alarm, it is as if every cell in my body rebels, simultaneously jerking me awake and plummeting me even further into despair. In those seconds, I clearly see every second I wasted during my days off. I then spend the rest of the morning fervently wishing I’d made better use of my down time. Or that I’d suddenly come down with a highly contagious disease and therefore have a legitimate reason to stay in bed.
It was in one of these fits of desperation that I had a bit of an epiphany. A “eureka” moment, if you will, in which I saw the answer to all of our prayers. I believe my sub-conscious took its inspiration from J.R.R. Tolkien’s fictional world, Middle Earth. Specifically the hobbits, who took such joy in their daily meals that one breakfast wasn’t enough – hence the need for second breakfast.
Similarly, I think we need an extra day in our weekend. And in honor of Bilbo Baggins and his ilk, I propose we call it Second Sunday.
Who’s with me?
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