The week

So I made it to Saturday. I complained to just about everyone I know about having to work the weekend shift last week, then a regular five-day week this week, for a total of seven days in a row. The outrage. But is it really that big of a deal? I've done nine days in a row. And it's not like this is required of me that frequently.

But it did put a squeeze on my time, moreso than usual. I went out, tired, after work last Saturday, Thursday and Friday. The reasoning being if I don't force myself to go out after work then all the relationships I've built will wither up and die. I would try to pick things up the next week and it wouldn't be the same.

Is it so selfish to ask for a day to myself? Where I don't feel like a work robot? Where I don't feel obligated to be somewhere or that I have outstanding chores to do?

The past couple days I haven't even felt tired, I've felt that exhilaration that comes when you push through the tiredness and don't even care anymore.

Anyway, now that I've vented a little I feel better. I will clean the bathroom today (because it *really* needs it) then take some time to enjoy the rest of the weekend. "Enjoy" is a verb I need to become acquainted with again.