Today is a holiday. The third of four consecutive three or four day weekends in the month of May.
When I first moved here I used to go kook-a-lock-a-nagee in the head during the month of May. I would practically foam at the mouth, scream, yell, toss things across the room shouting “How do you people get any work done with all these days off?!”
Already a work week is challenging enough because on Wednesdays, in grade school, there is no school. So, you begin your work week on Monday, you get in the swing of things on Tuesday and then you have to take a day off of work to take care of the kids on Wednesday. Thursday is like a second Monday and then its Friday and you’re back into a weekend. Argh!
But now, I have been here eight years. This is my eighth month of May. Maybe I’m getting older, feeling a little more mellow … mellow yellow, yeah. Maybe its all beginning to rub off on me. Who knows?
I’m beginning to like the month of May. As long as I know its coming, I can schedule my work around these pesky thirty-one days and I have come to appreciate a little extra time off. I try and do things that I never have the time to do during the normal, manic work week.
Read a book all day long. Watch a couple of movies in a row. Wander aimlessly around town, enjoying myself with no particular schedule. Hang out with the kids. Work out a little extra. Spring clean the house.
All in all, the month of May provides a lot of time to just Be.
And I like that a lot.