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I love weekends. Just like everyone else, I get to rest on weekends and go out with friends. I hate Mondays.

To be honest, when I'm home, every day is a Friday for me. It doesn't really matter what day it is for me. A lot of my friends actually have time off during the week, and so it doesn't prohibit me from enjoying myself when I am home on a Monday or a Tuesday.

I'm off at least three or four days a week, so it's a perfect job, really.

My favorite day is relaxing at home with family and friends.

I still work weekends because I like it; I enjoy it. I just don't care.

I really enjoy spending Sunday evenings with friends, because Sunday evenings are always frightening. You are obsessed by the fact that you are working again the next day. And sometimes you get the blues.

I never took a day off in my twenties. Not one. And I'm still fanatical, but now I'm a little less fanatical.

I try to get massages on Saturday. That's my only day off.

Once you explore life outside of work, it becomes addictive. The less you work, the less you want to work. At first, the odd afternoon off seems like a fantastic luxury. Before long, you are opting for a four-day week. Then a four-day week becomes an intolerable demand on your time, so you find a way of moving to a three-day week.