More and more often, it seems to me, the distinction between weekday (or workday) and weekend in my life is blurring. Some of this is a natural side-effect of writing books and articles for a living and working at home. My office is one flight of stairs from my bedroom, and I can easily go work any hour of the day or night.
Yet the rest of the world is becoming more active round the clock, and I think I blame the world wide web for at least part of this. Log on at any moment, and there's always someone chatting on IRC, or new things to read on sites like Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, SlashDot, The Well or Newshub. Back when I got my information from newspapers and magazines, and communicated with other people at the supermarket or at work, I slowed down on weekends because the rest of the world did too. Now, I don't have to. The Internet is always open.
What's it all mean? Probably nothing. Although the weekday has interjected itself into my weekends, the weekend has likewise interjected itself into the working week. Recreation is as close as my modem, too. Indeed, the more connected I get the more it seems possible to live a life of perfect integration, where there's no real distinction between work and play, weekday and weekend, things I have to do and things I want to do. I'm still a long way from perfect, and I don't believe perfection is a part of this world. But as life becomes more easily flexible, the possibilities open up before me.
It's an interesting ride, at the very least, and I seem to have a lifetime pass on it.