I had something of a first for me this weekend: my first long weekend as a real-life workin’ man.
I mean, like everyone, I’ve had long weekends before, but usually I haven’t really noticed their existence. I’ve either been in school, with stuff to do over the weekends, or working at the Press, where the work cycle never really stopped for long weekends, or we did our production on the day anyway, or I’ve been working service where I’ve either had to work the holiday, or my schedule was irregular enough that three days between work was nothing unusual.
This was genuinely the first time that I’ve had a three-day weekend and gotten paid (at least I think I’m paid) for the day. Even if I’m not, it’s the first day that I was supposed to be working, but wasn’t, and didn’t have to do anything to get the day off.
I almost don’t know what to do with myself. I mean, nothing’s open, and everything we needed to get done on the weekend, we got done Saturday/Sunday.
So I dug a hole.
It was good times. We went to Wendy’s and got gooey, cheesy bacon melt burgers, to Tim Hortons for Iced Cappucinos (the only thing I will consume from Tim Hortons), and then ate it on the little pebbly beach at a park alongside Humber Lakeshore campus. Then skipped stones and walked the beach looking for interesting pieces of sea glass and masonry from the buildings that have clearly been demolished and dumped into the lake nearby (there were pieces of marble and tile flooring, not to mention whole bricks, as detritus on the shore). And I dug a hole in the stones. For no reason. It felt pretty good to have no real worries (there are still bills to be paid off and stuff to do, but the crushing dread of unemployment feels REALLY good to have lifted), and to have a day to genuinely relax.
I suppose that was the point of the holiday. I wonder if that’s what they’re all like.
So, (to steal a line from Beth) Happy British Colonial Superpower Day!
Addendum: There were fireworks/firecrackers going off at about hourly intervals around our neighbourhood this weekend. Looking out the window, I found something interesting. Everyone setting them off was generally of the non-white/British-descent persuasion.
I found this interesting, since it was Victoria Day, a holiday celebrating the monarchy of basically the biggest and most insidious colonial force of all time. So, most of the people setting off the firecrackers seem to be born of cultures who were more than likely in some way colonialized or oppressed by the force they are celebrating. Oh, and socioeconomically (though I am of course generalizing here), in this neighbourhood at least, these are also people from families who are most likely to be working a service or industrial job that would have them home without pay today. I could be totally wrong, but it just seemed a little odd to me.