My current work arrangement has me working two weeks of each month from Atlanta and two weeks of each month from Houston. Despite seemingly splitting each month in half, I effectively spend one weekend a month in Houston and three in Atlanta, not counting traveling in and out. The first weekend in Atlanta (somehow this is "weekend 1" in my mind) is my favorite. We often don't schedule much because we don't quite know when I'll be arriving. Weekend 1 is relaxing and I have two whole weeks of being home to look forward to. Weekend 2 is my second weekend in Atlanta and it's almost always packed with seeing all the friends we want to see and doing all the things we want to do. There's nothing relaxing about it but it's great none-the-less.
This weekend is weekend 3. Regardless of what we have going on (and this weekend's plans are pretty great), it's my least favorite weekend. In my mind, it's not weekend 3, it's leaving weekend. By Friday, I'm looking at what I'll need to pack up, even though it's very minimal. By Saturday, I'm asking myself why I keep dragging myself back and forth between Houston and Atlanta. I know that I'll be bribing myself to get moving on Monday morning (at 5am) with a treat on the way to work.
It's alright though because the next weekend is weekend 4. Weekend 4 is pretty great. I get to catch up with friends in Houston that I feel like I haven't seen in way too long. I sleep in. And, best of all, it's only five days until I get to go home again.
