I have never liked week out. Back when I was a kid I found weekends to be a VERY mixed bag. On the one hand there were some enjoyable things, like not having to waste time in shule (or, at least, uneducational shule,- shule was pretty much largely tedious slowness of information, rather a lot of mindless regimentation, and periodic terror of spelling tests-) and there were better programs on the television than during the week, especially Science Fiction Theater and the obligatory saturday evening 1950’s fear-the-bomb movie.
But the downside was that schedule was disrupted. Bad as shule was for boredom, at least it was reasonably predictable. The only real uncertainty was whether one would be picked on by student bullies – other students who amused themselves by playing no-win games at the nerds – or educationalist bullies – the administrators and faculty who amused themselves by playing no-win games at the students. But the weekend was less predictable. It might be disrupted with time wasting, like having to accompany father to have one’s hair trimmed, a harrowing experience because of the condescension of the barbers and the reality that no questions could be asked about new vocabulary obtained. This was the 1950’s and some questions could not be asked and would be punished if they were asked. But we 1950’s nerds do understand why humans are so fundamentally whacked.
And there was sundae. Unless one of the parents was ill, one had to get up, attire in highly uncomfortable clothes, and attend services. The latter included a “sundae shule” that was even less information dense than regular shule and utterly devoid of meaningful explanation. Question were always condescended to and never proper. About half were punishable with corporeal means. And one was not supposed to nap even though that was clearly the only reasonable possibility given the whacked sociality.
And the fooding was altered both in schedule and nature. Starting on friday evening through sundae evening meals were not only less well scheduled but of different composition. Why, one might even eat in a restaurant or at a picnic. And parents never did get the relationship between diet and nightmares.
When I became an adult, weekends retained their polarity. Yes, I rather liked not having a schedule that did not respond to my illnesses and sleep shortages, but that absence of schedule was also unpleasant. Too many mundane errands to be performed, although some did offer opportunities to witness the foolishness of bogs. Ad in the early days of adulthood there was the dichotomy of dating, an intensely unsatisfactory, abrasive activity for most nerds.
Nowadays, as a senior, I still dislike weekends. The absence of regularity is no longer just mentally annoying, it is actually physically uncomfortable. And the relaxation of all the boggish instrumentality abets this. The chief problem is that the errands are gone. An unexpected consequence, it seems, of being retired and doing errands during weekmiddle.
So weekends are nasty and painful and probably necessary.