So, yet again I didn’t watch a major awards show. And yet again I learned all I really need to know from Twitter the next morning. (Arcade Fire, the Biebs didn’t win, Gaga egg, puppets. Boom.)
This weekend actually felt longer than twelve hours, which I consider a success. There’s really nothing worse than waiting all week for Friday night, only to blink too long and it suddenly be Monday, amiright?
I think the trick is breaking up each day into separate parts, thereby creating several sub-days, if you will. For example, Friday night we met up with friends for dinner and drinks. Saturday, I went to the gym, got a haircut, looked at an apartment, took a significant nap, and went to the fiance’s hockey game. (If you’re keeping track, that’s about six sub-days so far.) Sunday started with a meeting, then pizza with friends, then the mall, then another nap, then we went into the city for a friend’s brother-in-law’s band’s show.
All in all, we’re talking about eleven sub-days. Not bad for a two-day weekend.