Weekends Are Too Short

Weekends are simply too short. Who decided that of the seven days in a week, we'd only get two off from work? I'd like to talk to that person. Here it is, 8 pm on Sunday evening, and I feel like I need at least another day before going back to work. Don't get me wrong, I have a fantastic job where I laugh all day, but COME ON, how can it be Sunday night already?

Friday I took a group of 15 of my students kayaking and camping. We paddled for a couple of hours to a secluded cove, set up camp and spent the rest of the day playing on the beach. Evening campfire, to bed, then Saturday morning we broke camp and loaded up the kayaks again. Paddled another couple of hours, had a spectacular lunch on another secluded beach, a few of us braved the frigid ocean for a swim, then an hour paddle home.

Home mid-afternoon, unpack, grab Jason and we headed up-Island to a surf shop to buy him a new paddle for his stand-up paddleboard. Head back south. Saturday evening we met our friend Tim for a swim in Westwood Lake in Nanaimo (where I learned my brand-spankin' new wetsuit is too big and I have a race in a week - argh!), dinner of fish tacos and wine at Tim's, then home and to bed.

Sunday morning sleep in a bit, breakfast, a couple of tasks around the house. Put elastic laces in new running shoes, then discover they're too small (argh! again). Get ready to drive to Victoria for a ride and run. Ride a couple laps of next week's race course, then a quick run on the trail at Elk Lake. Head back home, do some errands on the way. Get home, clean up all the stuff from yesterday's kayaking. Laundry. Stupid laundry. Grocery shopping. Unpack groceries, make dinner, eat. Make tomorrow's lunch. Check the weather forecast. Fold laundry and put clothes away. And here we are, after 8 on a Sunday night... next is hot tub, book, and bed. Where did the damn weekend go?