Three-day weekends.

Three-day weekends should be the norm. When people talk about quality of life, as far as I'm concerned the only answer is four days of work, then three days of play.

Period.

That fuzzy, giddy feeling on Saturday when you know that the following day ISN'T the last one before having to be on the clock. That you actually have a whole additional day - Monday - to sit and play and relax. And that in fact, SUNDAY is available for whatever is on your list.

Here's what three days in a row of not going to work looks like:

+ Tyson was here. That in an of itself makes for a spectacular weekend.
+ We played tennis and munched dinner and sipped beers with Rob and Claude.
+ The four of us then made plans to get together again on Saturday morning. For brunch. More food and chatter because Friday night clearly wasn't enough.
+ The boys went to watch college football so true to the stereotype Claudia and I went and got pedicures and shopped.
+ I spent some quality time on the phone with a best friend as she moved her family from Chicago to Minnesota. Exciting.
+ Tyson and I met friends for drinks at a cozy cafe on Capitol Hill and laughed A Lot.
+ Bess, Tyson and I decided to go camping. Meaning we rose on Sunday, drove to the forest and we set up our tents, made lunch and a fire. And then we decided to go home. On Sunday evening. Because the weather was crap.
+ Tyson and I donned sweatpants and went down the block to our favorite Pho restaurant for Sunday night eats. Perfection considering the damp and chilly weather.
+ Slept in. Never do this. And it was awesome.
+ Tyson made MONDAY brunch.
+ Tyson gave Bess a motorcyle lesson while I putzed around the house and started chicken tacos in the crockpot. They sat and cooked all day filling the condo with the most amazing aroma.
+ We ate dinner and watched 'Away We Go'. Which was awesome.

Sigh