It'll happen on Sunday...

Saturdays are the most devious days in my life. They always come upon me with the illusion of productivity. 24 hours to do everything that needs to get done. Time to sleep in, do homework, clean the apartment, bake cookies, knit a sweater, cook dinner, and still have time at the end to watch a movie with the husband. It's an idealized reality that I dream of all week. It gets me through Mondays when I have a whole week of work ahead. It gets me through Wednesdays when lesson planning, grading, and my own research are racing towards their Friday deadlines.

But come Saturday morning (okay, let's be honest...afternoon) when I manage to roll out of bed, I have to remind myself that I am not the person I dream of being on Mondays. I don't have any desire to get anything done on Saturday. After all, Sundays are for productivity, right? Everything can get done on Sunday. Clearly Sunday will actually have 24 hours in which I can work (reminder: Sunday is the idealized reality I dream about on Saturday. It is also a lie). This is what I think about at 3 in the afternoon when I am still in my pajamas, the dishes are still "drying" on the counter (like they have been since Wednesday), and my homework and grading have yet to be touched. Sunday. On Sunday, everything will get done.

The work that has to get done today. Three articles on "Cyclops" (one of the trippier episodes in James Joyce's Ulysses) and at least one more cable repeat on my sister's Twisted Twilight Mitts. But let's be real here. I'm totally watching Harry Potter and pretending that there are still 12 productive hours left in today.