I’ve determined that I don’t much care for three day weekends. Actually, that’s not quite true, I kind of enjoy the fun of three day weekends. What I don’t like is the aftermath.
As an introvert, I have a finite amount of energy to expend dealing with other human-beings 1. When that reserve is used up I crash pretty fast and tend to become extremely grumpy. Because of this, Sundays are a a day of great stress for me. I’ve got to balance my energy reserves well enough to be able to function during worship, and save just a bit for the afternoon so I’m not a monster at home. I try to time it so I begin to crash near bedtime. This is OK because Monday is my day off. I spend that day recharging and getting ready to handle the week.
This is why three day weekends are such a strain on me. My day of recharging suddenly gets filled with the impulses of extroverts, because a three-day weekend is a social holiday. Now I joke that I’m anti-social, but it’s not really true. I really enjoy having folks over to cook out, or chat by the pool, or get together for a cup of coffee. I am a social creature, and so I love having a cook out on people’s extra day off. It’s just that it screws up my routine of recharging my social batteries, and I feel the impact it has. Without that time of recharging, I find myself more easily stressed, far more grumpy, and more likely to snap at someone when I’m trying to concentrate. Driving after a three day weekend is particularly tormenting.
What’s this mean? It means I’m still exploring ways to compensate for the rest-day a three day weekend steals from me. As much as I enjoy the extra time with friends, it comes as a price.
- I was recently musing on what I should be on my grave-marker. I came to the conclusion it should read, “Shut up and leave me alone.” A friend of mine said she wants, “Just one more story!” I think we ought to be buried next to each other. ↩