Every weekend, starting Friday night, is packed with a million plans.
A good movies, extra house cleaning, extra hours at work, special plans with the kids, sleeping in, fixing stuff around the house, possible road trip?
Every weekend goes something like this, and every Sunday afternoon when we realize that almost none of these things were done, we feel bad.
Somethings were done, like I did get some sleep, Davíð took the boys out snow mountain climbing and I got half the extra cleaning done.
I guess the microwave will have to wait until tomorrow, or next weekend. I am far to tired now.
But why do this? Set myself with impossible goals, then feel horrible when I can not obtain them.
I wonder if everyone does the same thing. Why can't we just relax on the weekend?