It's happened before. I come into work on a Monday and am asked by co-workers how was my weekend.
And I say, it was a very long weekend.
On more than one occasion, after I've told others that my weekend was long, I stop and think about that. Aren't weekends supposed to be short? Aren't they supposed to fly by?
I think they're supposed to, but many times mine don't.
Take my last weekend for example. In addition to my full-time gig, I've been working a show at our local amusement park for Halloween. Normally we only work Friday, Saturday, and Sunday evenings. Because local schools were out last week, we were also open on Thursday. So, last Thursday I worked my 10-hour shift, and sixty minutes after I clocked out at my old job, I clocked in at the weekend job.
Because of the success of the Halloween show, we've been doing more shows than were originally scheduled. This is a great thing! I love seeing the show sold out and doing more shows so more people can see it. But, it makes for long days.
The weekend would have been even more crazy if we had rehearsals for the Christmas show my daughter and I are in. Normally, we rehearse every weeknight and Saturday mornings. The reason we did shows Thursday night was the same reason they canceled rehearsals this past weekend.
Then came yesterday. I worked my 10-hour shift, took the train home, picked up my daughter at 6pm, came home, hurried and ate, and was at rehearsal at 7pm. We stayed until 10:15pm and seven hours later, I woke up to catch the bus to do it all over again.
I'm not complaining and I hope it doesn't sound like I am. I enjoy each activity I'm doing--it's just when they all come together, this 51-year old gets a little tired.
This next weekend is our last for the Halloween gig. I'll miss it, but I'll enjoy spending more time with the family, too. Here's to another long weekend!
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