It’s no secret that the weekend always seems to be on performance enhancing drugs. Our precious reprieve of the laziness of Saturday and Sunday passes by at a speed that would leave even Usain Bolt in a tizzy. Although the physics department has yet to release a statement explaining this repeated jump in the time-space continuum, we at the Clog know one thing for certain. Nothing ever gets done on the weekend.
We set out every Friday evening with a detailed, albeit ambitious, checklist of tasks to accomplish, and wake up on Monday with the boxes of our list resembling the party snack mix you just shared with your picky sister. No Chex in sight. It seems as though we’ve fallen into a familiar little dance around those two sacred days of the week. Just like the beginning of our semesters, we start the weekend with the intention of productivity, but unfortunately, just like our aforementioned semesters, we end up having procrastinated and accomplishing little more than having ingested way more Yogurt Park than we should have. Rest assured, you’re not alone in your squandering of the mythical days between Friday and Monday.
As a sign that we at the Clog truly do feel your pain, we’ve composed a little poem to give you some comfort in knowing that you’re not alone in your over-ambition. We like to call this Sunday night feeling the weekend woes.
The weekend woes
Friday so full of optimism and plans ahead,
This week we won’t spend the whole time in bed.
There are toilets to scrub and rugs to vacuum,
Has anyone seen the floor of our room?
It was here a few months ago, before we moved in.
This whole room is just a giant laundry bin.
All that talk of this mess
Has caused way too much stress,
Better hit up YoPo to decompress.
Whoops, it’s already past noon?
That’s means it’s time to nap soon!
A little snooze won’t hurt anyone, says that article we read.
Nobody bother us, we’re training for when we’re dead.
We’ll be up by four p.m., most definitely, for sure.
Oh crap! Slept ’til Sunday! That was a bust. GRRRR!
Well you know they say, “Sunday Funday”. Let’s do it!
But there’s that problem set… Ah just screw it.
We’ve got a long list of adventures to take,
Never mind the readings we’ll have to fake.
Someone stalk Yelp. Should we cruise to the city?
Wasting this weather would be a real pity.
The end of the day, and the weekend as well,
Nobody mention how our grades all just fell.