It All Works Out In The End

The trouble with long weekends is that once forced to return to a normal work week I always feel like I'm somehow getting gyped. Like, for real? You expect me to work 5 days out of 7? Shouldn't we try to balance out this whole work time/play time thing a little more evenly? And I always feel pressure to use that extra day off to do something supremely productive and wise, like building my own fallout shelter, or cooking myself lunch that doesn't involve peanut butter or jelly; inevitably I spend it lying about in my pajamas, munching on stale tortilla chips, going for walks, and watching movies.

Luckily, once this week is over I will have an entire week off and I'll be able to waste all the time I want. I'm definitely due for another vacation- I mean, seriously, when was my last one? Like six weeks ago? Geez, people, I'm not a machine.

I did however, manage to gather up enough courage on Friday afternoon to head over to the local Planet Fitness to see what all the hype is about. After last week's POW debacle I was very hesitant to seek out other gyms, but fortitude is my middle name. After a little discussion and a brief tour, they showed me the huge facility (complete with juice bar, chiropractic offices, and circuit training room), informed me that in 5 months they were moving across the street to an even larger facility with all brand-new machines, and found out that I was a teacher. Then it was time to talk pricing. Get this: $10 a month for teachers. No contract, cancel any time. Oh, and if I want to upgrade to $15 a month? I can have unlimited guest passes for Chris and half-price drinks. $10 a month! No joke. That's like a beer and a half at the Burren.

Sooo... this afternoon I begin a new love affair with the PF. And tomorrow morning? Free bagels. Thanks, new gym!

Anyhow, I hope you all had lovely nondenominational weekends filled with visions of genetically hybridized bunny-chicks hiding psychedelic eggs all around your domicile. Chris and I spent roughly 80% of our Saturday making what turned out to be glorified cupcakes. On Sunday, my lovely mother prepared a banquet fit for 12 people, half of whom did not show due to violent illness: a persistent fever and cough, some throwing up virus, and varied other sicknesses. Which, whatevs- it just meant more leftovers for me! My Dad even bought extra tupperware in preparation. That's what Dads are for, right? Lavishing their lovely daughters with leftovers and plastic containers?

Often times my sister and I use my parents house to do the bulk of our grocery shopping for the week. This means that battles sometimes break out over who gets what and end with some variation of this scenario: my sister kicking me in the backs of the knees so that my legs give out and I'm knocked unconscious by the kitchen counter. Or my sister punching me in the arm and shrieking so that I'm distracted to the point of exhaustion and don't care what she takes. Or my sister stealing what I've already packaged up to take home and hiding it until it's time for her to leave, then smuggling my stuff out to her car.

Sometimes my mother will try to mediate with secret advance offerings- for example, if my sister shows up before I do, she gets the extra package of syrian bread. If I show up early, I pack up all the spinach pies with the mail that still gets sent to my parents house (mainly solicitations to donate money to my various places of education), and my sister is none the wiser. In the end, it all works out- Chris and I have lunches for the week and I usually only sustain minor injuries.