The urgency that affected every single thing you did during the week would have vanished, and if you came in at the weekend you might suspect, fatally, that none of it mattered all that much. All the perpetrators of the urgency were at home in bed, or even abroad in bed, or sitting in cafes, or walking around, as if nothing in the world of work was all that important, as if everything could be put on hold.
I am currently reading Eilis NiDhuibhne’s Fox, Swallow, Scarecrow. I am not a great one for fiction but this was lying on the table last weekend and I read the first hundred or so pages in a sitting. Ms 73man read it in about a day and a half, but that’s the way she goes through fiction. It is partially based on Anna Karenina – another book I have not yet read but contains one of the greatest lines ever “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way…” – but is set in contemporary Ireland. Despite the self-conscious references to post-Celtic Badger Dublin it is a good read and the following might ably contribute to Flirty’s previous postings on being crazy busy.
One of the characters goes into her office at the weekend and notes the contrast with her crazy busy 24/7 lifestyle during the weekdays: