Short weekends in winter days

The working life is defined by weekends, which has made me too aware of the changing of seasons. What I miss most about part-time work besides the leisure to run errands is the way weeks can surprise you by its variations one after another. Some weeks felt like they lasted forever, and at the end of summer this was a marvelous thing. Often, I couldn't tell you what the date was without blinking.

Now my eyes are blinking sleep out of them like dust, and my Monday bag is uncomfortably heavy.

Last night, after a long, late dinner with 2 childhood friends, I swore to myself that I'd get to bed by 10:30. A YouTube tutorial on knitting a cable stitch and 3 inches of a new scarf later, I went to sleep at 12:15. Some lost shut eye, but it ended the weekend well.

On Saturday afternoon, I hosted my first parent-teacher conferences at the Saturday school I teach at, 3 classes a week. It was a packed 2 hours, and turns out parents really only have fretful fears about their children. They ask me questions like "Do you think he'll get into Stuyvesant?" and "What else can I do to make her focus better?" They're children, and though I know those questions will be my own someday, presently I wish they could have a little more fun, a little less pressure, and though it would put me out of my side job, a little less Saturday school.

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