One day wasted is one day too many

There was a time when I used to while Saturdays away. Perhaps it was more appropriate to say “mope”. Because Saturdays then meant that Sunday was just the next day – and the start of the week, Monday (some school of thoughts say Sundays are the start of the week but play along with me on this one), would be dreadfully close.

Looking back it was amazing the number of Saturdays I spent sulking away. One year had about 55 weeks, I saw few years went by with a flash, during which I had my first child. That’s a few hundred days down the drain, unappreciated, not lived for, irretrievable. Probably the main thing that breaks my heart is that my daughter’s first few years experienced a mom preoccupied with dreadful Saturday.

The interesting thing is I’m not always doing more stuff or less stuff these weekends. I sometimes end up doing the same stuff too. Perhaps it’s the fact that I’ve wasted too much time, and would just like to stop.

It took just one decision to switch. To appreciate Saturdays, enjoy them, live gratefully through them, so that I do not waste them. I’d probably put myself through less stress, despite having more to coordinate in my life.

The best part is I get to be someone who enjoys the weekend with my children and family.

The second best part, is that Sundays feel all the more enjoyable because you don’t feel guilty coming into the end of the weekend for having wasted another good day.

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