This week has been a busy one. I know you can relate. Early to work and more often than not my 5 o'clock has been pushed to 6 or 7. Sometimes on those nights a cup of hot tea fills the bill better than a Manhattan. After all, household chores have to get done sometime and if it's been a long day one drink leads to four.
Now, now, I know what you're thinking, "It's Friday afternoon and she's waxing on about a nice cuppa? Where's the cocktail talk, lady?"
But really, what I'm going on about is the ritual of 5 o'clock. The habitual steps you take to mentally walk away from the workday. What are those magical things that switch your brain from gnawing over TPS reports to slipping into relaxation?
My mother's best friend was a bank teller during the Mad Men era. This was the age of constricting foundation garments, torturous hair routines and heels for every occasion, including the grocery store. She always said her 5 o'clock ritual was literally stripping off the workday. The minute she walked in the door she would step out of the constraints of work and slide into the comforts of home.
While single and in the throes of my own era of mad men I came up with a little ritual that made me feel civilized and sane again. Living alone for the first time in ages and nursing one or another heartache was, well, disheartening. After my workday was over I would treat myself to a handful of quality crackers topped with good cheese, a glass of red wine and my new found love of jazz. Miles Davis', Cool Blues is still my ultimate home from work album.
Wayne and I use our 5 o'clock time to unwind from the day and check in on how the other's day went. Sure, we each get a few minutes to kvetch about this project or that issue, but it doesn't take long before our conversation transforms from mundane to fun. Our talk of what to have for dinner shifts to whom we'd love to invite over, then to vacations we want to take. Hell, there was one unseasonably warm, early spring 5 o'clock cocktail hour with Rob that turned into us all going to New Orleans for Jazzfest that weekend. Now that's a 5 o'clock ritual I could get used to.
So we want to know—what's your 5 o'clock ritual?
Now, now, I know what you're thinking, "It's Friday afternoon and she's waxing on about a nice cuppa? Where's the cocktail talk, lady?"
But really, what I'm going on about is the ritual of 5 o'clock. The habitual steps you take to mentally walk away from the workday. What are those magical things that switch your brain from gnawing over TPS reports to slipping into relaxation?
My mother's best friend was a bank teller during the Mad Men era. This was the age of constricting foundation garments, torturous hair routines and heels for every occasion, including the grocery store. She always said her 5 o'clock ritual was literally stripping off the workday. The minute she walked in the door she would step out of the constraints of work and slide into the comforts of home.
While single and in the throes of my own era of mad men I came up with a little ritual that made me feel civilized and sane again. Living alone for the first time in ages and nursing one or another heartache was, well, disheartening. After my workday was over I would treat myself to a handful of quality crackers topped with good cheese, a glass of red wine and my new found love of jazz. Miles Davis', Cool Blues is still my ultimate home from work album.
Wayne and I use our 5 o'clock time to unwind from the day and check in on how the other's day went. Sure, we each get a few minutes to kvetch about this project or that issue, but it doesn't take long before our conversation transforms from mundane to fun. Our talk of what to have for dinner shifts to whom we'd love to invite over, then to vacations we want to take. Hell, there was one unseasonably warm, early spring 5 o'clock cocktail hour with Rob that turned into us all going to New Orleans for Jazzfest that weekend. Now that's a 5 o'clock ritual I could get used to.
So we want to know—what's your 5 o'clock ritual?
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