A three-day weekend is a real gift to a writer with a day job. A four-dayer is a windfall. My outstanding boss announced yesterday that we get an extra day in addition to Memorial Day. Huzzah! I'm taking Tuesday.
The day before one of these weekends is a bit strange. Usually, I'm swamped. But since I'm covering upstairs for Giovanna today, I did all my last minutes yesterday. So I'm here basically to answer the phone and check emails. And the day before a holiday weekend is notoriously slow. Lots of free time to ponder 96 hours and what to do with them. Of course, I'll clean the house. And mow the lawn. Not too much time there--5 to 6 hours if get really picky and wash windows and trim around the edges. Maybe check out Territory Days in Old Colorado City. That's a few hours. Run to Home Depot for a new screen door for the patio. An hour. Sunday dinner with the gang. Let's face it--that can take 6 hours if they finish early with critiques. Maybe a movie. Three hours total. 32 hours for sleep, if I'm lucky. That leaves 45 hours. Wow. 5 pages an hour if I'm cooking, say 2 if I'm having to dig for it. At worst that's 90. At best it's a really short novel.
Now we all know that ain't gonna happen because I'm going to watch television and check everyone's blogs and email and call my aunt and talk for who knows how long (our record is over three hours), but there's still a big possibility to knock out a lot of revisions.