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Until recently, I didn’t understand the beauty of having a proper weekend. Having spent most of high school and university years working in retail, weekends off were elusive, reserved only for occasional holidays and friends’ birthdays. 

Now, I’m in a job where my schedule is more nine-to-five, Monday-to-Friday. Because of this change, I ´Ú¾±²Ô²¹±ô±ô²âÌýunderstand the TGIF feeling that people have been raving about for years. 

To be honest, I’d taken this newfound freedom for granted until one Sunday some weeks ago (pre social distancing), when some friends and I decided to embark on a one-day road trip down south, starting with breakfast in Port Willunga and followed by ocean walks and conversations about Love Languages over hot jam donuts in Victor Harbor. 

I came home that evening feeling like I’d just returned from a beach holiday – rested and rejuvenated from the day gone. 

The thing nobody tells you, though, is that the blessed TGIF feeling is accompanied by an equally impactful ICBTM (‘I can’t believe tomorrow is Monday’) feeling, which I was not prepared for. 

I guess it’s a useful reminder that, whether bound to weekend work or not, we should all remember to value those small moments of respite, the ice-cold-coke, donuts-by-the-beach moments. They’re few and far between (or, at least, until next weekend).