Ironically, on Labor Day, the whole country doesn’t work.
While it has often been explained to me, the naming of this day still puzzles me. It is literally the opposite of what we do, but I’m not yet influential enough as a linguist to bring this to anyone important’s decision.
In any case, it meant we all had a long weekend, and I have noticed how my ‘celebrations’ now are very different from when I was younger, and the activities have definitely changed.
In the past, I used to go to the beach, sit in the sun for way too long doing nothing, then moving my entire crew to a bar where I would drink in the sunshine until even the name ‘Labor Day’ made sense to me, eat something expensive because hell – it’s Labor Day and we deserve to enjoy the fruits of our labour – then eventually stumble home, fall into bed, be hungover in the morning and repeat this cycle until reality kicks in again.
I’d spend an incredible amount of money on lunches, dinners and drinks for this form of entertainment, not to mention that I’d start the working week completely shattered.
This time was different. Before sitting on the beach, I walked a 10km scenic walk. I drank water the entire time. I had a very reasonably priced brunch which I only felt I deserved in all its carb and fat glory because of said scenic walk.
On the beach, I felt guilty after 20minutes in the Australian sun, thinking of my poor skin, and spent the rest of the afternoon in the shade. This, dearest reader, had never been seen before.
Finally, I had ice cream and one beer. Just one. And I had dinner at home.
The next day I woke up fresh and spent the day at home, studying. You heard me. I said studying.
Then I had two glasses of wine with dinner, which again I had at home, and because my age is slowly starting to bite me in the ass, I woke up at 3am sharp.
Not because I was drunk. Not because it was loud. But because when you’re 29, all of a sudden, your good friend ‘red wine’ doesn’t let you sleep anymore, for no apparent reason.
So I was grumpy, sleepy and completely useless the next day. It was almost like a hangover, and it felt nice to know that in one way or another, some things never change.