I'm trying to figure out what weekends mean to me. After years of working from home, on a 'when it needs to be done' type of schedule, weekends in my mind are really only equated with the best times to avoid banks, parks, bars and shopping malls, because they will be crowded. Other than that, I could happily mistake any Saturday night for a Tuesday night. Various things along the road have strengthened this, including infamous Westdene Monday night Parties, as longstanding chaotic travel schedules.
Recently, the Dad was in a funk because I didn't give sufficient attention to weekend family time. My first reaction was...'give sufficient time to what??' But, he patiently explained that most people in the world orient their lives around weekly jobs, children's school schedules, and other things that make Saturdays and Sundays unique.
My first reaction was one of horror - that I may have to define my life according to capitalist-system imposed norms that I reject. Actually, that's still pretty much my reaction. But I am starting to notice a bit more, the charm of being socialised to a weekly rhythm - appreciating the soccer players in the park every Sunday morning, planning participatory cooking projects on Saturdays because the 6 year olds downstairs will be at my doorstep expecting entertainment.
Some day, if I have a kid in school, and a more 'normalised' working schedule, I might start defining my life this way. For now, I'm just trying to figure out what it means that the people around me already do....I wonder how pervasive this is? I suspect less so than someone in a routine job would have me to believe.
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