Last weekend I was busy literally every minute. I think I slept for about twelve hours over the three nights. I couldn't believe how much activity I packed into a Friday-Sunday timeframe. I wanted more than anything to have a few hours to myself, yet I couldn't tear myself away from any of the splendid things I did. Saw the play, went to a party, shopped for tailgating, tailgated, watched the Packers, and came home so collapsed I couldn't even go to the Amazing Poetess Jude Nutter's poetry reading at the Loft on Sunday night. Unprecedented.
This weekend: nothing. Zero. No plans. No yoga, because I'm not allowed to go for two weeks. (Well, a week from this past Monday...so really I can go back on the 24th, so it's only 11 days...which sort of feels like forever right now, but I guess I'll maybe do okay, I hope.) Seems I've chaturanga-ed my way into a shoulder injury. No parties. No games. No obligations. No readings, dates, meetings, or responsibilities of any kind. Hmmm.
I'm a little nervous for this weekend. There was a time when I would cancel plans to be able to spend a full weekend by myself. But now I'm so spoiled with my new friends and non-stop activity that, well, I've gotten used to being sociable. After all, the last three weekends I've spent less time in St. Paul than I have in my own home.
The weekend should prove interesting. I have a big stats test on Tuesday, so I can study for that. And maybe watch some Netflix movies I've had since...ahem...July.