some days ago, i told my friends that i won't work this weekend .. and, of course, i meant it at the time. (the last two weeks have been a lot of scratchwork on paper and a lot of $\LaTeX$, and i may have said that i need a vacation.)
i'm not so sure anymore.
sure, i still feel like i need a vacation .. but if tomorrow morning i wake and i want to attack one particular research problem or polish the manuscript .. then, why not?
i've re-read the previous passage and it sounds like bravado or machismo.
that's not my intention, though.
the thing is that i never fully plan out a schedule for the days of the weekend; if i do, then usually it's in the evening when the only viable options are to meet friends or to go to bed early.
an unhindered day like saturday often becomes a very attractive time, say several multi-hour blocks, to work something out and even to type up the associated ideas (which, if you're ambitious, might one day form the basis for another research article). while at home, nobody at the department ever contacts me, and the situation lends itself to complete vegetation. despite not being obligated to work, it is that selfsame flexibility for work (or its absence) that drives it progressively ...
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