“What are you doing this weekend, anything fun?”
“Sleeping. I can’t wait.”
-Data and C.
I submit that, to a working woman, nothing could be as remotely glorious as a three day weekend. The sheer amount of possibility is fantastic, all those ways to waste time! Half of the joy is making a list of things that need to be done and then blowing off each, one at a time like picking petals off a daisie (she folds laundry, she folds it not…). I’m debating not even getting out of bed until noon on Monday (which isn’t a civil right, but is definitely still worthy of celebration).
Tuesday I’ll spend clued to CNN.com to watch the inauguration, Thursday is Girl Night with my friends from London, and I’m fairly positive Venice and I will hit up at least one store…but until then, I think I will live in my flannel pants, watch old movies that I’ve rented, go running for long periods of time at a luxuriously slow-burn kind of pace, go food shopping only at dire need, and double my chocolate intake on the weekend.
Small Dog Syndrome 
I came to see you today. You weren’t there, though. Apparently you had just gone to lunch. I told the nice fellow at the desk to tell you I said hi. 🙂
A woman after my own heart. If I had a hammock…oh, the places I wouldn’t go.
I’m afraid that I don’t spend my days off in such a relaxed state. Rather, seeing how they are my only opportunity to have fun and be social, I run my self ragged partying whenever I have a free moment. Bill Watterson once suggested that having fun is more work than work itself…