There are two kinds of people: those who like to have fun on the weekends, and those who like to get things done. I am neither. Or rather I am both.
I was confessing to someone that I just don’t really like to have fun. At least not in the way most people do. I don’t enjoy day trips. I don’t like hiking. And I certainly don’t like bars/clubs/intoxication. My ideal weekends involve walks or runs through my neighborhood, coffee at the two coffee shops I frequent, and maybe perusing the junk stores for weird antiques I don’t need. I also frequently slave over a recipe for hours only to decide that I don’t feel much like chicken and dumplings after all.
At the same time, I am no good at getting things done over the weekend. I put off changing my summer clothes out for my winter clothes until 15 minutes ago. I think I was more productive in the last two hours than I was the entire weekend.
This weekend was no different. I ran fun errands (returning a shirt and buying a different shirt and browsing through Whole Foods). I watched Death Comes to Pemberley (I can feel a little torn about this. I don’t think Elizabeth would have been nearly so melodramatic. I prefer to imagine her as a precursor to Miss Marple – all pluck and keen powers of observation). But really the weekend boiled down to a few things that really let me hit Monday feeling that I’d accomplished a lot and had some fun.
I made pudding from scratch. And I didn’t curdle the eggs. I always curdle the eggs. Basically, for me, having my pudding turn out flawlessly made me feel like I was candy-crushing life. And now I have a lot of vanilla pudding to eat.
I ate an entire bunch of kale for dinner. I like to do this because it combines having fun and getting things done. I feel super healthful (all I ate the rest of the day was raisin bread toast), and I actually like eating sautéed kale (especially when the edges get crispy).
But the crowning jewel to my weekend was discovering that I had read the novel Dora Bruder by Patrick Modiano. Now why was this such an accomplishment? Modiano just won the Nobel Prize for Literature, and every year I half-heartedly contemplate reading a work by the Nobel Laureate (I never get very far because I hear things like Norwegian haikus and magic realism thrown about, and I get scared). The only person who came near sharing this excited was my fellow French major (and current phd student) from college. Now I have all the self-righteous pleasure of talking about Dora Bruder (which I read en français) without actually having to read it. Like most French literature of the 20th century it is about the Occupation, Nazis, and France’s guilt over Vichy France (the collaborationist govt. that out-Hitlered Hitler and imposed their own anti-semitic laws). Here is the proof of my elation (in all its unedited glory.) Hannah’s excitement does not quite match my own, as she reads French works all day every day. This is what winning at the weekend looks like.