Saturday Blah.

There's a quirky part of this experience that I never saw coming. No, it's not the amount of guacamole consumed in a week, but it's the fact that we all hate weekends. This goes against every grain of my American upbringing. Even the most content of Americans who happen to love their job, really enjoy a good weekend. There's even a whole restaurant chain dedicated to the beauty of Fridays (speaking of, I could really go for some JackDaniels Chicken thingys). And I can even remember certain dance moves that would spontaneously occur when I would get to work on a Thursday and realize there was no school on Friday. A 3 or even 4 day weekend seemed like a special gift from the Heavenly realms. All that to say, that is not the case here in "the mala" (as my roommate calls it.) If the Guatemalan population is enjoying time off on a Saturday and Sunday that means one thing to those who are self-centeredly focused on going home: no one is working on your file. Now, on the other hand, Mondays are like a sight for sore eyes. We fostering moms just might start a restaurant of our own down here and call it T.G.I.M., although I'm not sure how well that would go over. So, here I am on a beautiful afternoon and all I keep coming back to is "Blah...it's Saturday." A more mature response might be to leave the bitter discontent and just relax and trust that the Lord can do whatever needs to happen in the five days of the work week. That would be the more mature way of viewing it all. Maybe I'll save that for next weekend, when I've had a little more sleep and Eliot's not running a fever...