dear weekends,

Dear weekends,

A few years ago I used to despise you Sundays. For the moody afternoons and the strange feeling of Monday lurking in the atmosphere.

A few years back I hated you Fridays, for your traffic jams and your non existent parking spots. 

I feared you Saturdays would show up and I would have made no plans, having to spend yet another evening in front of my computer. 

But then I missed you so. I missed the hours of sleep you so open handedly offered. I missed the boredom that made my mind travel a million - gazillion actually - years ahead, making lists of the things I need to do or the things I should be doing, but instead I am just scrolling down my Facebook timeline. 

I missed Sundays spent at restaurants, discreetly unbuttoning my trousers under the tablecloth, because I was so stuffed with you french fries. 

I missed the cliche of a Sunday night spent at the movies, or watching Dancing with the Stars - whatever.

And I hated myself for not liking you weekends. I felt sorry for the times I put holidays on top of my calendar yay days list and not you. 

And so you came back, with a new job in hand, and now I can tell you whole heartedly: I love you weekends. I really do. Therefore, I choose to spend my first proper weekend in Dubai by the pool of the One and Only on the Palm. Yes, some people made an artificial island and I chose this piece of fake land to celebrate you. With good company, consisting of friends, a playsuit I got on sale and a glass of rose wine. 

Welcome back.