On Mondays I am always super-productive. Without even trying I work wonders and almost always achieve more than I set out to do. On Fridays it is inevitably the opposite. However hard I try, I can pretty much write off Fridays. Apart from a a nice run in the morning, I don’t seem to get anything done at all. It’s like my batteries have just slowly run down as the week has gone by and by Friday nothing is moving at all. Unless I have an urgent deadline – which always makes me spring into action – Friday is always a heavy, slow and somewhat frustrating day.
At one time I used to try to schedule a sewing day on Fridays or at least on Friday afternoons. It just never really worked. If I sew on, say a Tuesday, everything just falls into place. Fridays are spent unpicking mistakes. Friday is just not a creative day. If I’m truthful I actually think it’s a day when I should just stay in bed or at best potter in my jammies and read nice books. But don’t tell my husband I said that. He wouldn’t approve.
It really is completely illogical. My life is pretty well-balanced and I’m happy with my lot. There isn’t a massive difference for me between weekdays and the weekend – except that at the weekend there are usually more people around and more mess. Which should mean that the weekends are more tiring than weekdays. The fact that I’m all bright and sparky on Mondays really doesn’t make sense. Mondays are when I tackle the carnage left after the weekend – and that isn’t pretty.
I understand why I’m productive in the mornings and less so in the afternoons, but I really can’t get my head round the reason why Fridays are such a write off.
There’s only one thing for it. Or three things if I’m honest. The sofa, a glass of wine and a good book (currently Henning Mankell: One Step Behind – one of the Wallander series, which I highly recommend!).