Weekends are supposed to be relaxing

I had anxiety all weekend. After a long, stressful week, I had my heart set on hiding in my apartment, quiet, work-free, and relaxed. But the weather. The incredibly sunny, mild weather had me feeling guilty. I did not go outside. And I know that a few months from now I will always be cocooned in my apartment on the weekends, so it ate at me, but I just couldn't do it. Couldn't leave.

I appreciate all of the things I am allowed to do--or not do--because I am single. I have no partner to answer to, no children to feed. And sometimes that's exactly the thing that gets me down. But this weekend it was nice. For example, today went something like this:

5 a.m.: Wake to cat taking a leisurely bath on top of me. Not bad; 7.5 hours of sleep check e-mail, check Facebook, cross stitch one sheep on my latest endeavor. Begin making a week's worth of oatmeal and sort out all dirty clothes (which is almost all of them).

7 a.m.: Figure it's okay to go downstairs and begin doing laundry. Brush teeth first. One load of whites, one load of darks. Hang wet clothes throughout apartment in skillful and clever ways. Keep eye on oatmeal. Take pills. Stitch another sheep. The microwave timer is set for the wash (30 minutes for washer; 60 minutes for dryer) and the stove timer is set for the oatmeal. Dole out oatmeal into separate Ziploc containers. Top each with brown rice syrup and raisins. Eat a bowl for breakfast.

9 a.m.: Done with laundry. Begin watching Ghandi on TV while doing some backstitching. Movie is boring as shit, yet sort of gripping. Flip back and forth between that, Sleepless in Seattle, and Clean House.

10 a.m.: Christ, how long is this Ghandi film? I begin to flip through the channels and find John Cusack (insert sound of squealing breaks). Serendipity. That's sweet. I forgot all the Nick Drake in that movie. Oh, that I could be so lucky as to find John Cusack lying in the middle of the ice rink in Central Park at night.

noon: Playing online, looking at blogs about minimalist lifestyles. Decide to tear apart my bedroom, which is cluttered and driving me nuts. Spend substantial time pulling shoes, clothes, and jewelry that I don't need/want. Closet looks spectacular. Some drawers are empty. Bed is made. I'm amazing.

2 p.m.: Starting to feel depressed--I'm losing the day. Work tomorrow. I begin to clear my desk in the office. Sort through cross stitch materials. Suddenly wonder how much one person should spend on food each month. Google for a while. No good answers, but general consensus is about $100/month. What do these people eat? What do I spend? I have no idea. Begin looking at cookbooks. I should eat more fiber. Fiberous foods are filling and cheap. Beans, lentils . . . Stomach growls, so I order a pizza.

4 p.m.: Actual pit in stomach over the fact that the weekend's almost over. Hit "send" on an e-mail I shouldn't have written. Shed a tear or two. Realize that a truly lame Jason Biggs movie is on. Look around apartment. Flip over damp clothes hanging everywhere. Consider what I want my office/craft room to look like. Wonder why I am such a mess. Look at an indepth yoga/muscle book. Do a few stretches. I am completely inflexible. I can't keep sitting all day, like I do at work. It's killing me. My back always hurts. My hamstrings are completely tight. I lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling. Cat watches.

5 p.m.: Begin writing a pep-talk-type page to myself ("Be more firm," "Say what you mean," "Slow down"). Put pen down and write a completely boring blog entry.

Sometimes I'm not sure whether it's healthier to push myself to go "out there" or to rest and regroup for the week ahead. I figure if I'd left the house I'd have wished I was at home. Tough break.