Holding Fast – Tenacious 

Weekends used to speed faster than the mosquito you’re trying to smack. When I was working, there were a few things you knew about them.

1 – You weren’t going to get half the things done you had planned because there weren’t enough hours to fit them into one weekend;
2 – You knew how much you hated your job by how whether you hated it on Friday night or didn’t hate it until Sunday;
3 – Why didn’t people make weekdays an hour and a quarter longer so you could have a three-day weekend?

A three-day weekend was enough time to sleep for one day, do stuff that needed doing on another, and have some fun on the third. That one extra day of not-working was a big deal.


April canal and river

Towards the end of my working years, much of it was spent working electronically from home, so the pressure to somehow get “everything” done on the weekend was greatly reduced and of course now, retired, I find weekends annoying because offices are closed and I can’t deal with “stuff.” I have to remember to do them on Monday — or Tuesday in case I forget on Monday.

Retirement, after a few years during which you keep time like you used to, starts to be all of a piece. Every day is like every other day. The only reason I have an inkling of which day of the week is passing is that I schedule posts in advance. Also, when I’m planning out bill payments, I need the calendar. And, I need to remember the beginning of the month because that’s when I give the dogs their heartworm medicine.

I check the calendar to see when we have doctors appointments.

Photo: Garry Armstrong – July


All of this makes me think about time, calendars, weekdays, weekends. Other than appointments that occur on a specified schedule, do the weekends matter? Are they relevant? Do I care whether it is the ninth of the months or the eleventh? Other than calculating the arrival of our Social Security checks, how does calendar time affect my reality?

Effectively, time barely matters. The seasons’ matter, but I have a better sense of the seasons from being outside and feeling the weather than via the calendar. Summer is longer, winter is long and the in-between seasons — the good time — are much shorter.



Time slows in winter and the weeks go slowly when you can’t go out much. Winter lasts a long time in New England, especially when the snow begins early and the cold of winter lasts until late.  Birthdays become increasingly less critical as you get older. Not only less critical but sometimes rather unpleasant.

I don’t want to turn 72 in March. I’m pretty sure Garry doesn’t want to become 77 in April and I’m equally sure my son doesn’t yearn to be 50 in May.

First blizzard – January

Meanwhile, today is Sunday. I don’t remember what I did yesterday. I literally don’t remember anything. It came, it went. The weather is cool this weekend, but it will warm up later in the week — and there’s a possible hurricane wandering around the south Atlantic which might have something to do with us, but we aren’t sure.


I know it’s the weekend because Colbert and Trevor aren’t on, but football has come again. The Red Sox lost yesterday at home against the Astros. Not good.

So basically, Sunday is a day. On Monday, it will rain.

11 thoughts on “THE TENACIOUS WEEKEND – Marilyn Armstrong

  1. If it wasn’t for my week-at-a-glance prayer journal, I wouldn’t have a clue what day it was… As retirees, we live by the appointments I’ve plugged in (mainly medical). The seasons–now that timing is a different story–summers too short and winters too long, but there’s beauty and glory in each and every one. Summer is at its ending and a lovely autumn soon beginning! 🙂 xo


  2. …. and you both are about the same age – and I will always have Pat to thank for having found you!
    My weekends are and were slightly different to yours as we dedicate our Sundays to our church. This was always so and although there are times I somewhat envy other people for their ‚free‘ Sundays, I know we‘re doing the right thing for us – and of course all the extra work has to be crammed in on Saturdays. Plus the invites, the outings, the ‚sitting around and doing not much‘….. Where are the hours and days, weeks and months going?


    • I don’t know where they are going, but each time I look around, another month has passed. We used to go to church on Sunday, but Garry one day simply refused to get up early any more. If they set the service for 11 or 12, we might make it, but 9 in the morning? On Sunday? Nope. Garry doesn’t get up that early EVER.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. How I remember the days of working in a full time job and being housewife. Week-ends seem to have been the days when you caught up on the housework that stay at home people have time for during the week. You did your best, but it was never as you would have liked it to be at home, you just did not have the time. And now I am running out of time. These late prompts might fit in in over the pond, but not in Switzerland where it is half an hour to go for midnight and I am not a midnight blogger.


    • They are late even for us. They forget to post them, I suppose. But I got up late today. I felt so poorly this morning, I really needed to sleep in. However, if they are this late frequently, I simply won’t do them.

      Liked by 2 people

      • Noticed the weather change over the weekend. The maligned heat and humidity — gone with the wind — replaced by chillier temps. AARGH.

        Sunday ended on a good note for our local sports teams — who survived close games and secured victories and respite for nervous fans.

        Still — those chilly temps. Not a fan.


Talk to me!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.