In it, Violet, Dowager Countess of Grantham, eyeballs the new heir–the sadly middle-class Matthew Crawley–and asks, with perfect seriousness, “What is a weekend?”
Oh, wow. Can you imagine not looking forward to Friday afternoon, and not having dread on Sunday evening? Not even thinking about a difference between, say, Wednesday and Saturday?
For all of us, I’d say, that is an impossible dream. So with that in mind, let’s tell Violet what a weekend is, and what we plan to do with it. I’ll start:
I am having a few friends over to watch North and South. Again. There will be swooning over Richard Armitage, some snacks, and perhaps more swooning over Nicholas, the rougher bit in N&S.
I will be catching up on True Blood; I’m two episodes behind.
Reading–currently engrossed in Stacia Kane’s City of Ghosts, hope to dive into one of the many Mary Baloghs I’ve got on the TBR pile.
Walking–now that I’m working, I sit a whole damn lot, and I hate it. I hope to get to the gym, too.
I will not be drinking ratafia, bossing the servants around, or bemoaning my lack of an Almack’s invite.
What are you doing?