On taking days off and the wonders of Target.

I have a hard time telling time. I do okay with the minutes, but I'm not so proficient at telling the hours. I usually get it one more or one less than the actual time; this is why I completely freeze up when a stranger asks me the time. I usually try to pass it off by saying, "It's fifteen after," or "It's a quarter 'till."

I think my faulty concept of time extends to my feel for how many hours are in the day. The days of the work week pass pretty much how I expect them to - slowly. But then, by Friday I suddenly have visions of 56 hour days, complete with plenty of time to do everything I want/need to do. My weekend To Do list has recently included reading 5 books, writing two papers, cleaning my entire apartment, laundry, church, watching everything saved on my DVR, and hanging out with family and friends. And I'm always annoyed on Sunday evening when I haven't accomplished 1/10th of the things I had planned. Why is it that I think the weekend days are so much longer than a regular weekday?

Yesterday I got overwhelmed by everything I needed/had planned to do, so I just got fed up and decided to play around. And by play around I mean "I got my Christmas bonus and decided to go to a bunch of different stores (including Target twice) and then talk about coffee and computers with various members of my family." I found out that my back up hard drive is broken, I bought a pair of shoes for $6.50, I finally got a real coffee maker (for free!), we made a girls trip to buy coffee and crafts, I got fancy light up snow flakes for my patio, and I got the first three seasons of Gilmore Girls (on sale at Target for $15 each). I did actually read for awhile in the evening, but beyond that...I'm still overwhelmed.

But at least I can look at the box of snowflakes while wearing my new shoes, sipping on coffee, watching Gilmore Girls. And not try to think about the two papers following me around like an ominous cloud, waiting to be written.