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Weekend means cleaning house.

I feel very odd and askew in my time-orientation, because Monday through Wednesday is my weekend. The rest of the business world says "TGIF!" and I'm having a Tuesday. Somewhere between Friday night and Saturday morning, I generally have a real bugger of a Wednesday, and by the time Saturday morning rolls around an hour earlier than the rest of the phone goons have to deal with, I get a Thursday. And you know how hard it is to get the hang of Thursdays. Sunday is my Friday, and Monday morning was therefore meant for sleeping in, because it's sort of a Saturday, but I'm unconscious for most of it, so really, Tuesday is more of a Saturday, and then Wednesday's a Sunday, or maybe it's a Monday, because I have to get more motivated to do more things, whereas Thursdays are very simple, and not even much like Mondays, even though they are my work-week Monday. I can actually get the hang of those.

Weekends mean I get a chance to clean up. Saturday and Sunday I get home from work with plenty of life left in the day, at about the time I should ordinarily be waking up. So of course I do things like putting away dishes, shopping, taking out collected garbage, collecting the assortment of water cups that have collected around the apartment and putting them in the sink to go in the washing queue, taking things that really belong in the closet or the bathroom and putting them there, and so on and so forth.

Mondays are not good for getting anything functional done, because I tend to sleep until at least noon, and then I have to get out to go give plasma, because I have to do something constructive on my days off, and anyway, my plasma money is my expendable cash for things like fuel, laundry, and non-essential and/or I-don't-want-to-cook foodstuffs. It's a generous allowance to give myself, and I'm proud of myself for mostly being able to stay within those bounds.

Tuesdays are a little better. I don't generally have anything to do, so I can stay home and get my electronic life cleaned up and put back in order, in between straightening the apartment. The apartment's still a wreck, of course, but it keeps things from getting supercritical too fast. If I have any essential errands, they're usually for Tuesdays.

Wednesdays are dreadful from a getting-things-done perspective. I'm generally up way late the night before, so I sleep in, and then I have to zoom out after the usual morning stuff straight to the plasma place, and from there, to writing group. I haven't been doing well of late on the timing of that, and have been coming late to writing group. I haven't been writing much either; too much busy with not enough sleep. Not even much writing on paper from work.

I'll see what I can do, though. There are things in my brain that need to come out, and it's the weekend. And that means cleaning house.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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