Monday morning conversations often start the same way.
“How was your weekend?”
“Good.”
“What did you get up to?”
“Nothing much.”
IIt’s such an ordinary answer. But after saying it, I realised I actually meant it in a good way. I hadn’t done anything special, and doing nothing might have been the best thing I could have done.
As far as weekends go, this one wasn’t very eventful. There were no special plans or anything particularly exciting. There really wasn’t much to talk about. But I’d had a really good couple of days.
“Nothing” can feel like it needs an explanation. If you went away, tried a new restaurant or spent the day out, there’s something to talk about. Staying home and not doing much doesn’t sound nearly as interesting. But does our free time have to be interesting?
Waking up with nowhere I had to be was probably my favourite part. No rushing to get ready or checking the time because we had to leave. The day didn’t need to go anywhere. I could just see what happened.
Even when we have free time, it’s very easy to fill it. There are always jobs around the house, places we could go or things we’ve been meaning to get around to. Before you know it, the empty day isn’t empty anymore.
And doing nothing isn’t really nothing anyway. I still got up, made something to eat, wandered around the house, talked to people, looked at my phone and did a few little things here and there. It was just an ordinary day. The difference was that I wasn’t doing one thing while already thinking about the next. That felt good.
I’ve always looked at free time as an opportunity to do something. A quiet afternoon could be used to get a job done, and a weekend without plans could easily become a chance to make some. Even ten quiet minutes can somehow end with a phone in my hand.
Now I’m wondering whether we need to fill all of it. Having a few hours with nothing expected of me didn’t feel like wasted time. There was nothing to achieve and no need to make a point of relaxing. I was just enjoying the day for what it was.
By the time I went back to work, I actually felt like I’d had a weekend. Sunday hadn’t been spent trying to squeeze more into the hours I had left before Monday came around. There was nothing I wished I had managed to fit in.
Of course, I wouldn’t want every Saturday and Sunday to look like that. I like having plans, going places and having things to look forward to. But I think I’ve been underestimating the quieter ones when nothing much happens.
So the next time someone asks what I did over the weekend and my answer is “nothing much,” I don’t think I’ll feel the need to make it sound more interesting.
Sometimes nothing much is plenty.
