If you’re always waiting for the weekend, most of your life is the waiting.

Five days out of seven is the bulk of any week, so treating them as a corridor you hurry through writes off most of what you have. No weekend can carry that much weight. Something in the ordinary days has to be worth being awake for, or the waiting quietly becomes the main activity.

Put one genuinely good thing into a weekday, not as a reward for anything. A person you like, a thing you enjoy, an hour that belongs to you, on a Tuesday.