…excuse me while I pack the guilt into a little box, and quietly shove it over the edge of the balcony. Spending a weekend doing exactly nothing seems so contradictory to the pressure of cramming it with places to visit, things to do, people to meet up with, food to be eaten. Ergo, it is with a great sense of regret that I realised I have spent the weekend just past doing exactly nothing. Ah well, I visited the mater, a visit which largely encompassed eating like I’d been starving for a month and then lapsing into food induced coma, from which I had to be shaken awake by the offspring and pointed doorwards in order to make it back home in time for swim class.
Ah yes, Swim class. The swim class which has now taken over our lives so completely that we have no time nor energy to be social, go out and meet friends, to spend time doing anything but burrowing head beneath covers and grabbing multiples of 40 winks through the day over the weekend in order to make up the sleep deficit.
I slept in on Sunday morning. This of course means we woke at 7 am instead of the regular 5 am. We lounged around lazily, and had our breakfast at the obscenely late hour of 9.30 am. We then read the newspapers at leisure instead of skimming through the headlines before deciding that the only way to spend the day was to do things we didn’t have the leisure to do through the week, like catch up on catnapping, reading books for hours at a stretch or watching enough television to
render the eyes glazed and watery. Not that I watch too much television or any television, to be accurate. The only television watching I did do in times past was that of the news channels, but when every panel discussion on them news channels began resembling the kind of catfights one sees in the fish market, needing heavy dosages of Disprin in order to contain ensuing migraines I discontinued television viewing. Except for the occasional movie. The child played with his friends, long neglected through the week of school and tuitions and swim class morning evening, until they had gone miles beyond the Raju Veeru levels of reconciliation and were back again in adversarial WWE combat mode, and I was summoned via intercom to resolve playground dispute which seriously was of much taller order intellectually than some of the bickering and name calling our so called political leaders have been guilty of over the past few days.
The Sunday was spent reading, sleeping, eating and which is how it should be. A weekend needs to have one completely relax oneself so one can spend the rest of the forthcoming week stressing oneself out to drawn string bow levels of tenseness.
This in itself is a luxury, I would think. To do absolutely nothing. To meet no one. To go nowhere. To stay cocooned at home, to allow the day to be unfilled with things to do, places to go, people to meet. This, probably is the only true leisure. And yes, today, its back to the grind.