Some things are just more important

This past weekend I had about four minutes of me-time, when I was able to do whatever I wanted to do to my own pleasing. I got up at 5am on Saturday and at 6.30am on Sunday. On a school day you'd have a hard time finding me awake anytime before 7.30am.

By the time Sunday evening rolled around I was barely able to keep my eyes open anymore, but I did not regret a single thing I had done over the weekend. I saw friends I only get to see a few times a year, held babies, prepared food, comforted a sick friend, celebrated a child's birthday and spent time with people I care about very much. Reading, laying out in the sun and watching TV took a backseat, but they were not missed.

I tend to go through life wishing I had more time in a day, or wishing it wasn't that late yet, or wishing I could sleep just a little bit longer. My pining for more time is rarely ever a pining for more time to do things for other people, but usually it's me wanting more time to do what *I* want to do.

This weekend I wanted to sleep, watch a movie, eat some good food, have fun, spend time outside, and just relax. I did sleep (a little), I did watch a movie (sporadically, from the kitchen), I did eat (with friends, and cooked for them), I did have fun (playing a character in a very impromptu skit in front of about 100 people), I did spend time outside (walking across parking lots mostly, and soothing a baby in the quiet shade), and I did relax (sitting with a sick friend).

And my approximately four minutes of me-time were spent doing, well, never mind, I'm pretty sure I was asleep for most of those four minutes.