Is there anything more affronting to the control freak than two days of empty Google calendar alerts? What would appear to be a respite from worry often turns into just the opposite—because as we all know, just because you can do nothing doesn’t mean you should. For a Type A personality with a secret capacity for total uselessness, the only way to deal with weekends is to fill them up with arbitrary (and hopefully somewhat productive) distractions. A man, a plan, a canal, Panama. The usual suspects.
This impulse gives way to Weekend Theory. The science of Saturday and Sunday. I need my R&R as much as the next head case, but I want to know when and where it’s coming to me in advance. Like Facebook’s, my timeline has evolved over the years (and also like Facebook’s, it continues to be susceptible to emotionally disruptive but ultimately positive change), but right now it looks something like this: rage Friday night, run errands Saturday, go low-key Saturday night, loaf and laze and cook and clean and refuse to put real clothes on Sunday, and enter a homework-related panic around 10pm Sunday night (I’ve got an hour to go, somebody Skype me quick!).
The Friday night rager speaks for itself. What is there to lose, dignity excluded? Nothing important is ever due on Saturday, and everyone is more fun when they’re desperate to shed a week’s worth of anxiety and propriety. You can also get that nagging, inexplicable need for Katy Perry’s approval out of your system (you too, right?). Saturday lends itself well to being out and about—stores are open at the usual hours, and even the strangest strangers seem more approachable and relaxed. A classy dinner or a single drink on Saturday night scratches the social itch without diverting from a purposeful Sunday, which for me usually includes making playlists, doing laundry, engaging in various forms of boring beauty maintenance, and prepping raw whole grains/fruits/veggies so I have healthy snack and meal components readily available during the week. Oh and homework. If I have time.
This Errand Saturday, I redeemed a forgotten Groupon for half-off gourmet groceries at Fox & Obel. Naturally I spent it almost exclusively on frivolous things I would have never purchased under normal circumstances. Fiscal irresponsibility: it’s what’s for dinner.
Fancy cheese, fancy chocolate, obligatory bottle of wine. Can we talk about Mast Brothers’ packaging, please? It’s just mean. Sweet, salty, and preppy? I didn’t stand a chance.
I also spent a few hours curled up with Henry James’s Portrait of a Lady at my favorite Chicago coffee shop, The Daily Cup in Edgewater. Crimson walls, ample couch space, indie music at optimal volume, fresh pastries baked on-site (Nutella scone, anyone?), my favorite loose-leaf tea of all time (OF ALL TIME) (roasted almond. Though if you can bring yourself to speak the words “Raspberry Kiss Mocha” or “Cream Dream Latte,” those are pretty worthwhile as well). If you’re still at Northwestern, it’s about two blocks from the Intercampus stop at Loyola. Highly recommend.
And I did all of those exhausting, important things wearing the unofficial winter weekend uniform: cozy sweater and comfy jeans.
No peacocking on Saturday afternoons. A waffle weave and tiny star studs provided more than enough drama for this ensemble.
Do you systematize your weekends? How did you spend yours? And more importantly, what did you wear while doing it?
[Vince sweater, J. Brand jeggings, Marc by Marc Jacobs earrings, Michael Kors watch.]