It appears to have made me more proactive during the work week.
If I have some time left in the day after work is over, I actually run errands -- walk over to a mall to pick up the shoes I need (did you know you can't wear open-toed footwear if your office is technically "on set"? I didn't. After months of walking the other way if I saw the production manager coming, I finally picked up "proper set shoes"), or swing by a post office to grab a few stamps, or even grab the carton of milk I've been doing without for the past few days. It isn't so much that I am just that jazzed to keep my day going -- it's that I just don't know when the next free moment is going to come. "What about the weekend?", you may ask. Puh-lease. I have a day job now. The weekend is the only time I have for the mindless couch-potato television-absorption that has come to define my existence.
Today I got off work early -- and by early, I mean "on time" for the first time in about six weeks. So did I kick back, put my feet up, and engage in some unexpected television time? Nope. I did laundry. Might even have been inclined to do dishes, except it's pretty darn sticky in my apartment, and if sorting hot clothes fresh out of the dryer didn't knock me out for the count, my hands in hot soapy water would surely have pushed me over. Literally. (did you know it's supposed to hit 38C on Thursday? I may just stay working so late at the air-conditioned office that before I know it I'll have to pop over to one of the bedroom sets and catch some zzz's until Friday)