I cannot get it out of my head that the weekend only lasts about twenty seven hours.

You wait all week for it like it is some grand human right, and then it arrives already half exhausted. Saturday disappears in errands, laundry, coffee, one small outing that somehow becomes a full military operation, and before you know it Sunday evening is standing in the doorway like a debt collector.

There is simply no way two actual days pass that fast. This is administrative fraud. Someone, somewhere, has quietly removed a large portion of the weekend and left us with a trial version.

By the time your body finally understands it is allowed to relax, it is already Monday breathing heavily outside the door.