Friday, I love you . . . There’s an attractiveness to the weekend, sure, but your beauty hides within the fact that you are pregnant with the weekend’s potential. I hear, Friday, that you were pretty much maligned and slandered up until about a hundred years ago, being though to be unlucky . . . You and I should both thank that infamous Friday Club for working to get Saturday as a national holiday so that you could be something to look forward to, instead of dread.
But, my dear Friday, why is it that no matter how much fun and frivolity your evening is full of that your afternoon is always fraught with such insanity? I haven’t sat through a Friday afternoon in months that wasn’t filled with some manner of madness (and not the fun kind). I won’t let it effect my opinion of you though, Friday, I know there is only so much you can do.
Can you try to talk to your friends Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, for me sometime? They could learn a lot from you and your relaxed attitude. Thursday seems to be catching on a bit in recent times, but still has a long way to go, and the other three are sort of hopeless. It’s sad . . . see what you can do.
In closing, let me just restate how much you mean to me, Friday. All week I look forward to your appearance, and toward the end of your night I feel a slight pang of sadness knowing that you will be gone soon and all I will have is the weekend, instead of the potential of an entire weekend. Don’t let the Friday the 13th people get you down, between you and me, I don’t know a single person who actually considers the day unlucky. So there.
TGIF, yes, I said it.
You know who else loves Friday? Eris Nancy Discordia.
Yep, she TOLD me so.
Do you believe THAT?