I know I am not alone in wishing every now and then that I lived in Europe. The draws are endless. There’s the ability to travel from one country to another, easily and affordably, the picturesque countrysides and ancient villages we Americans usually only see in the movies, and let us not forget those mellifluous accents that make us swoon. Yes, these are enough to make some of us want to pack up and go right now. But what I am talking about is the holiday. This is not to say that in Europe they are not working hard. No. But with all those paid days off and the lovely long lunches (in parts of France at least), it is my opinion—and likely not mine alone—that they definitely have a leg up when it comes to achieving the work-life balance.
And sure, saying this makes me sound like a lazy, spoiled brat, who shows no gratitude at a time when, being that I’m employed, I am amongst the lucky ones, but gosh do I miss not working. I’ve acknowledged the obvious over and over—yes, that said situation would mean no steady paycheck and no health benefits. But it would also mean a clearer head…and motivation to be excellent even if collecting unemployment might have me feeling otherwise. These days I feel like I’m digging for motivation in rocky ground.
Ah but the three-day weekend. That’s where it happens.
Would it be so bad if these were regular? Shall not every weekend be three days long? Sure one might argue we would get comfortable with it too quickly and before long be wanting four. But I think not. Three days would be just perfect. In all sincerity, I plead: our current two are not enough. Factoring in the hours of a real-life, [at least] New York City work-week, adding commute time, prep time in the morning and at night getting ready for the next day, and then a decent night’s sleep, there is little/practically no time for self. It is simply not possible to fit it all in—the gym, a dinner with friends, running errands (both those out of need and those for pleasure), reading the paper, reading a book. Gosh never mind writing.
But with that extra day tacked on to Saturday/Sunday, we’re golden. This past long weekend—for which the positive effects on my being are slowly fading—consisted of Saturday fun, Sunday sleep (all day!) and Monday all for me, writing for 12 hours straight. How I wish I could boast such productivity more regularly. The way things are currently, sadly I don’t foresee this being a reality.
So I’ll gather the votes. Three-day weekends forever, yeah! You in?