Tomorrow is Labor Day, a moment for us to recognize the many contributions workers have made to America’s strength, prosperity and well-being. It is an important day.
It’s also a three-day weekend, which on the surface sounds great. Who doesn’t want another day at the weekend?
Well, I don’t do it.
Before you think I’m just a grumpy old man who looks really good because he lost some weight, let me explain. These three-day weekends are always followed by a stressful four-day work week. Things we would normally do in a five-day work week are now crammed into four days.
I don’t like that.
Waking up after a three-day weekend is never fun. That extra day of sleeping in, for me, convinces my body that I never need to wake up early again. Waking up a teenager on a Tuesday after a three-day weekend is practically impossible. Unnecessary drama. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. It makes more sense to play volleyball with a hornet nest.
I don’t want that.
Three-day weekends mean unnecessary pressure to socialize. If it’s a normal weekend, as God intended, I don’t have to do anything. But you add just one more day to a weekend, and suddenly I’m hosting a barbecue? Do strangers come up and look at my stuff? For some reason I get invited to my daughter’s boyfriend’s father’s uncle’s for a night in Rhode Island?
I don’t want to do any of that.
Three-day weekends always mean travel disasters. It doesn’t matter what day you travel on a three-day weekend, it’s traffic. A car journey that normally takes 40 minutes now suddenly takes 12 hours. I am convinced that some of these three day weekend drivers are being paid by the government to get in my way.
You probably think I’m paranoid. But you know who invented the three-day weekend? That’s right: the government!
Hmm? Think about it…
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Story produced by Lucie Kirk. Editor: Lauren Barnello.
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