Maybe like a lot of you, I sit at a desk all week. Monday through Friday, day-in, day-out. I restrain my movements to a few square feet while I talk or listen endlessly on meeting after meeting. The week is a progression of days leading ever so slowly to the last hurdle, Friday. On Friday morning emails are tinged flippant references to what awaits in another eight hours. Then finally, after an eternity, it comes.
This is what decompression looks like, a central mass expanding. Friday feels like this.
Friday night, Saturday and Sunday during the day are all free. Free of deadlines, free of worries, free of compression. Then, sometime Sunday afternoon or evening, the realization that it’s almost over kicks in. I watch my favorite shows, think about what I wish I’d done, go to bed.
Monday morning is all business, get the dog walked, get to work, get through e-mails before my first meeting. Settle in, focus on the task, narrow my center of mass. Five more days to go.