Flex

Yesterday one of my co-workers stopped by my cubicle to say good-bye as she was heading out.

"Are you flexing tomorrow?"*

It always so funny when people talking about their day off as "flexing."  It brings to mind standing around my house assuming various body-building poses.

"Yep," I said, as I raised my arms to show her my biceps.

My bi- weekly days aren't necessarily to flex my body, though I will use some of the free time to exercise.  Mostly, I use it to flex my sanity.

Weekends are not relaxing for me right now.  The kids are still so young and needy and demanding, so we spend our time Doing Things.  The zoo, the science museum, the park, the pool, in between getting the house cleaned and running weekend errands.  So I often get to work on Monday exhausted and relieved to be able to sit quietly in my cube and work without noise or requests for milk or announcements of "I got poopies."

So my flex days are sacred.  I get to spend time in my quiet house, paint my nails, do some cleaning.  Maybe take a nap.

I'll meet with my contractor about doing some painting and finish work.  This afternoon I'm getting a 90-minute massage (from the same kid whose face I managed to avoid tooting in last time -- I'm hopeful I'll be equally successful today).  I've got a couple of errands to run.

Mostly, I'll just revel in the silence and the solitude and steel myself for the noise and craziness of the next couple of days.
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*In every two week period, I work a "flex" schedule consisting of 8 9-hour days, 1 8-hour day and then have every second Friday off.