I always have lofty goals for my day off. I could go to the park. I could go to the museums; go shopping; just take a walk around the city; see what's out there on that particular day. Instead, I find myself so incredibly relieved to not have to work that I stay in my pajamas half the day, and maybe motivate to go get some new milk to replace the one that's developing chunks in my fridge, maybe take advantage of the sushi lunch special at the restaurant downstairs, and relax watching movies, sewing, or playing Nintendo games on my computer.

I'm realizing just how much I depend on that promised Tuesday off. On weeks like the past one, where it was a good 50 hour week, 5 days of 10-11 hour days, I need the weekend as crash time, not exciting time. Hell, I didn't even go out on Saturday, although I contemplated it. In the end, I chose to stay in, and was perfectly happy doing so. Today I fulfill my family obligations, then gear up for another long week of working 4 full 11 hour days, and one day of family yet again. Maybe next Sunday I'll have the energy to do something else productive, but I shall have to see. I'm trying to put my health first and not make the same mistake of burning myself out within the first 6 months of a job by trying to please everyone - bosses, clients, family, bar friend obligations, and put myself last.

Sure, it may not be the most exciting way to spend a Saturday in NYC, but I'll take what I can, especially when it means putting myself first, something I still struggle to do on a regular basis against my first instinct of making others happy and taking care of others. I'm taking the time. I'm breathing, sleeping, eating well, and smiling more. That's the way to do it.