The Rise of the “Boring” Weekend, and Why It’s Not Boring at All
I’ve had a big few months. A trip to Ballarat, a proper family holiday up in Darwin, a run of birthday lunches and events that seemed to land one after another without much breathing room in between. All of it wonderful, all of it worth doing, and all of it, if I’m honest, has left me absolutely craving a weekend where nothing is planned at all.
Why we’ve started calling it “boring” in the first place
There’s a term going around at the moment for exactly this: the boring weekend. Two days with nothing booked, nowhere to be, no bags to pack and no one to farewell at an airport. It sounds almost embarrassing to admit you’re craving that, as though wanting nothing to happen is somehow a failure of imagination or ambition. But I think the label says more about us than it does about the weekend itself. We’ve become so used to filling every space that stillness has started to feel like it needs defending.
What a full few months actually costs you
Ballarat was a beautiful weekend trip, and the Darwin holiday even more so, all that heat and food and time together as a family that we don’t often get. But travel, even good travel, is still logistics. Bags, bookings, timing, the low hum of always thinking one step ahead. Layer family birthday lunches on top of that, which I genuinely love, but which come with their own quiet admin, the gift, the pre-visit cleaning, the cooking, the catching up, the making sure everyone’s included, and you end up with a few months that were full of good things and still somehow left me tired in a way I didn’t expect.
That’s the part nobody quite prepares you for. Good, joyful, meaningful time away or together with family still draws from the same well as everything else. It doesn’t automatically refill it just because it was enjoyable.
Why the boring weekend isn’t actually boring
A weekend with nothing planned isn’t empty, it’s just unstructured. There’s a real difference. An unplanned Sunday might still involve pottering in the garden, a slow coffee that isn’t rushed because you’re meeting someone at a set time, half a book finished on the couch, or dinner that’s just whatever’s in the fridge instead of a booking. None of that photographs particularly well or makes for an exciting update to anyone, and that’s rather the point. It’s rest without an audience.
Giving yourself permission
After Ballarat, Darwin and a run of birthday lunches, I’ve decided our household is due a proper boring weekend, and I’m treating it the same way I’d treat any other plan, protected, unapologetic, and not up for negotiation just because nothing is technically “on.” No day trips, no visitors, no errands dressed up as plans. Just space.
If your own calendar has looked anything like mine lately, full of good things that still somehow added up to exhaustion, consider this your permission slip. Book in nothing. Let the weekend be boring. You might find it’s exactly what brings you back to yourself before the next lovely, busy thing comes along.
