Weekends don't count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless. ~Bill Watterson

When we were younger weekends were for sleepovers, play dates, parties and sleeping in. Now I feel like weekends are for waking up before 10, running errands, paying bills, doing all the stuff you couldn't do after work during the week and if you're lucky, going out for a few hours to do something fun.

Growing up means entering the zone of schedules and internal clocks. Schedules that rarely allow for spontaneity and clocks that occasionally backfire on weekdays but will have you up bright and early on a Saturday morning, urging you to get out of bed and "seize the day"!

Should I be happy about this initiation into adulthood? I know, I'm getting too pensive, but weekends don't feel like weekends anymore. Maybe it's the cold, or maybe I'm suffering from seasonal affective disorder...who knows but I think it's time to take back the weekend.

We're given 48 hours to fill with fun things that should not evoke stress...I'm definitely going to take advantage of that...starting next weekend.

hermitage:

 –noun 
1. the habitation of a hermit
2. any secluded place of residence or habitation; retreat; hideaway.
3. (initial capital letter) a palace in Leningrad built by Catherine II and now used as an art museum


When I was in high school, I used to be better about carving out me-time. I did this to counteract the overachiever in me so I wouldn't go crazy. I would unplug my phone, sign off my AIM, lock my bedroom door, and curl up on my bed with a good book or a good movie. Something I affectionately called my hermitage.  It wasn't a reaction to a bad day, or teenage angst, or a fight with a friend; I just needed some time to recharge. As I've gotten older, this "recharging" has fallen by the waist-side.

I live in this constant battle with technology. I love having access to everything, but then that access becomes too much and I want to shut it all down, at least for a few hours. So today, during my lunch break, I ventured to the Grand Central branch of the NYPL, and while I was settling into my new book, Her Fearful Symmetry, I took a moment to weigh the pros and cons of indulging in something sinful: turning off my cellphone.

Pros:
No email alerts
No gchats
No text messages
No facebook notifications
No app upgrades
No interruptions


Cons:
I won't be able to check the time
What if I get an urgent work email?

I know what you're thinking, clearly the pros outweigh the cons, but it involved a heated back and forth in my head for about 10 minutes. BUT, finally, I settled on my decision:

SHUT THE DARN THING OFF!

I mean, are we destined to be badgered my our cellphones' constant tweets and chirps? If someone calls us, must we answer, every time? If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Do we eat to live, or live to eat?

Ground-breaking stuff here people. Think about it. Or maybe you already took my advice and disconnected yourself......after you finished reading this post of course, don't forgo the necessities. Obviously.

Let the rain sing you a lullaby. ~Langston Hughes

As a fledgling New Yorker I know that preparing for a rainy workday means setting my alarm clock at least 10 minutes early, getting my dusty wellies from the back of my closet and looking for one of my 50 umbrellas (that always seem to go missing when I know rain is coming). But as a native Long Islander I see rainy days as perfect reading days.

Imagine waking up, the sky is a crisp light grey, you can hear the fat raindrops splashing on the roof, tapping on the windows, swirling off the tires driving by your house; you are cuddled up in your warm bed wrapped in a fluffy down comforter, snuggled with your perfectly placed pillows. It is the ideal morning for a steaming cup of tea and that book you've been putting off because of your busy schedule. Days like these are gifts from the biblio-gods. It is an opportunity to excuse yourself from your hectic life and slow down.

What I love about rain is that it has multiple layers that peel away with each season. Fall is wet and cold, damp autumn leaves crunch under your shoes. Winter is cold, protective icicle-armor forms on tree branches. Spring is wet and warm, re-birth breezes through the tentative leaves. Summer is hot, the humid sky sighs forming puddles to cool us off. Each instance is unique.

Heavy downpour = sexy rain kisses like in The Notebook.

Summer rain = warm day and cool raindrops; flashbacks to running up and down my street with friends when I was younger.

Thunderstorms = cuddling and candles....or hiding under the covers.

Sleet = harsh winds and achy bones

But regardless of the type or style of precipitation, next time it rains (and it isn't a work day, even though we all know how hard it is to get out of bed when it's raining), don't curse the weather gods, curl up in a comfy chair or your warm bed, and let the melodic drip-drops lull you to lose yourself in those pages and relax.