Whenever Friday comes around, I’m always like, “Thank goodness! It’s Friday, the week is almost over, and I’m about to have two full days to myself!” Doing laundry and separating Thing 1 and Thing 2 from strangling each other, but still.
Weekend!
Except of course this week.
I had a whole week off of work, and it was fabulous! I worked on a side project, I wrote like crazy (well, not as crazy as I had been in April, obviously, but crazier than before April), and I got to do neat things like nap, see The Avengers, and wash dishes during daylight hours!
This morning as I went to pick up my caffeine, I thought to myself, “Aw, man, it’s Friday already? I don’t want it to be Friday! I want yesterday to be a dream, and today to be Thursday again!”
Luckily I didn’t say this out loud, as the harried cashier serving me may have reached over the counter to silence me with a firm grip around the throat.
But it’s Friday, and after two more short days (one of which is Mother’s Day, which my kids have been preparing for the last two weeks or so), I’ll be back in the office.
I don’t want to be back in the office. I want to be here, at home at 9:42 in the morning, with a pile of dirty dishes awaiting me in the kitchen and a story waiting to be written.
I think it’s time to play the lottery.
