Doing weekends right is an art that can take a lifetime to perfect.
Me, I’m still learning. Some weekends I spend partying my ass off and living to regret it when I’m suddenly back chained to my desk on a Monday, blinking red-eyed and unshaven in the artificial light and wondering how the fuck I got there.
Other weekends I chill to the max (read: do absolutely fuck all) and arrive on Monday feeling somehow cheated and like I’ve wasted my time in the worst possible way.
Depending on how the weekend’s gone, these feelings of regret usually start setting in late afternoon on Sundays while I make frivolous attempts to at least tidy the house or put on a load of washing or SOMETHING.
Today’s different though because I actually got a shitload of stuff done this weekend and I’m pretty damn proud of that.
On rare days like these, the Radiohead song ‘Everything In Its Right Place’ starts playing in my head like this:
So I’ll leave you with that thought while I get ready for the WC final tonight where I’ll be supporting Holland because my sister lives there and I’m a huge fan of the underdog, having been one more times than I can count