It’s 6 p.m. on a Friday. I am in office, brows squeezed in concentration, hunched over the laptop, trying to wrap up the leftovers of the week, to avoid the unpleasant task of dealing with it on Monday.
“Aren’t you leaving yet? It’s Friday night,” someone waved as she left. I wave at them and continue towering over my laptop, as if I could intimidate the work to do by itself. I also want to leave, it’s been a long week and the restlessness has started to creep in. Maybe I pack it up and do it later. But wait, my brain reminded me, “Why do later? Not like you have plans now that you have to rush off to.” This is me failing to calm the restlessness, the dilemma of having the perfect weekend.
It started about four hours earlier, when all the businesses that I have ever crossed paths with, reminded me of the upcoming weekend and of the consequences of going through another normal weekend. The shopping apps, the food delivery apps, the salons, the travel apps and even the banks told me that it was finally time to ‘pamper’ myself and that I ‘deserved’ it. Coming to think of it, they have been doing that a lot lately. I see a lot of encouragement from them for my ‘Monday blues’, ‘Travel Tuesdays’, ‘Wow Wednesdays’, ‘Thrilling Thursdays’ and the most dreaded ‘Fri-yay’ fun offering various discounts and steal deals as if they can somehow help me power through my other problems.
My laptop goes blank interrupting my thoughts. Low battery. Even my laptop seems to be at the verge of quitting. I quickly pull out the charger and plug it in lest I lose my progress or worse, give up working. I look at my watch. 6.30 p.m. Now the office is nearly empty. Something about a long weekend inspires even the bosses to leave early. I think of the work left, and about the people who had waved to me earlier. They must be having a good time: partying, dining or travelling to instagrammable destinations. Anyway I’ll know tomorrow, thanks to social media. How come I did not get the time to plan the weekend. Is this even a thing now? Or maybe it is only for millennials. There’s even a term coined for this turmoil: FOMO (Feeling of missing out).
It is the feeling when you feel that you are about to miss a flight that you didn’t book in the first place. Because you didn’t need it. But you feel you need it because others feel they need it.
The laptop powered on, but my interest to work has not. I quickly open Google to check if there are any worthwhile events happening. Just maybe. Bollywood party nights, DJ, live music, stand-ups, the usual loud overrated stuff in a ‘hip and happening’ metro.
Things that weren’t a thing a decade ago. My brain chipped in, “A decade ago you were using a phone that resembled a remote and emitted blue light every time it played that single ringtone. Things change. So what do we do now.” This internal debate is only confusing me further.
So I unlock my iPhone and croak, “Siri, call Anurag”. Calling the spouse always helps. There are more constraints, so there are usually only a couple of options. Choice by elimination. He lifts my call and says, “What’s up? I have a call in two minutes.”
Wow, so I have a constraint in explaining my options, not just in choosing them. I say, “Do you want to go somewhere, do something tonight? You know, maybe a pub or a restaurant?”
“I don’t know. This call might go on over an hour, traffic on Friday evening is insane so if we start that time to any restaurant, we will reach by 10 p.m. Both of us will be hungry. But I don’t mind going if you want to go.” There. The consultant in my husband just dissected the problem by applying practical variables such as schedule, traffic and hunger. The husband still left the decision to me, just like husbands do.
But I get the futility of the exercise for the sake of a Friday night. So I tell him not to worry, to get on with his call and hang up. Sigh. I might as well get some work done. I whisper to the presentation I just opened.
My phone buzzes. Text from husband. “You sounded low. Don’t feel bad. Let’s order from your favourite restaurant and watch an episode. Or we can go sit at the beach and have ice cream later. And don’t forget you were so excited to read that book you had ordered!” I smile widely. I reply to him and get back to my document. True, I was not particularly up for any of the things I found browsing. I certainly didn’t want to tire my body in the processing of rejuvenating my tired mind. As I feel my restlessness ebb away slowly, I type on, more relaxed, looking forward to yet another Friday night: to the comfort of my usual escapes: good book, good music, good food and of course, good company. Set for now.
Until it repeats, tomorrow. Or maybe next Friday.
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