I'm in my last year of undergrad as an English major. I am taking 24 credits this semester, in order to graduate in May. Three of these courses are English courses. This means that my weeks are very busy, and that I am always reading. Always, always, always reading. I cherish my weekends. However, since the semester started at the end of August, I have noticed that I always overestimate my weekend productivity, and then when Sunday night rolls around, I realize that I did not do much to ensure that the week will be pleasant and stress-free.
Here's an account of last Sunday night's inventory:
I did not go through my mail.
I did not vacuum my carpet. Of course, I did not even get the vacuum out of the closet in order to clean the carpets. I got the vacuum out of the closet so I could suck up a spider, but I didn't get the spider either. By the time I retrieved the vacuum, it had disappeared. That was four days ago. I still have not found the spider, and it was gigantic. I also have not spent any extended amount of time in the living room since, because I am scared.
I did not move my shoes from the floor by my front door to the floor of my closet. I didn't even straighten them. My little cousins would be so disappointed in me. Their shoes are always tidy.
Sadly, I did not even remember to put my books in the car for class. I went to my 8am class without any books for the whole day, and had to come all the way home after it.
This weekend, two of my dear friends are visiting from Toronto. I'm sure that even less will get accomplished, and I'm so excited.