Thursday. You’re such a great day. You hold all of the weekend’s secrets. You hint at what could be yet you never reveal exactly what is around the corner. You provide a full 24 hours of “Almost Friday” which is practically as good as Friday itself. You are the very portrait of anticipation – almost there, but not quite yet. You are the sprint before the leap over the last hurdle. Once you come I know that only 8 short hours at work hold me back from 55 hours of freedom at home, at play or away on my own. Everyone loves Friday but by the time it arrives, the countdown has already begun. I will the Friday workday into nothingness and then I’m free, free, free – but I can’t help but hear the count - 53, 52, 51… Quick! Do something fun! 48, 47, 46 … Come on! I need a fix! 26, 25, 24 … One day? I need more! 5, 4, 3 … Did the weekend fly by or is it just me? 2, 1, 0 … NO, anything but Monday! I need a hero!
By the time Monday comes I’m already looking for you, Thursday, my old friend. The one who promises never-ending fun and relief from this unstoppable clock. Days come and go and before I know it you’re back again. We plan and scheme and do everything we can to force the maximum amount of fun into each coming day, but I think we’ve been looking at it all wrong. No matter how many plans are set by midnight, we can never plan the moments that take me by surprise and open my eyes to the possibilities every minute brings. Oh, Thursday, don’t take this the wrong way. You know I still love you. We will always be the best of friends. Here’s to Thursday – my partner in crime, the night I stay up too late, the day I try to find a date. I’ll always be looking for you although I don’t know why. You come back every time. Here’s to Thursday – the most loyal friend on the planet. Dreamer of dreams, forerunner of Fridays, overture of adventures, my most favorite day of all.
Nothing is determined. Nothing is out of reach. Nothing is for certain. Nothing has been breached. Promises are intact. Best laid plans are made. No need to retract. Nothing I would trade.
I need a hero!! Oh, this is great. Here's to Thursdays everywhere! (Or perhaps I should say every week.) :)
ReplyDeleteMy favorite part about Thursday is when I wake up at the crack of dawn I can think "I only have to do this one more time!"
ReplyDeleteThursday is innocuous. I prefer Sunday. When I was a kid, my heart was set on the part of the week between about Friday 3pm and Saturday 3am--party time. At some point, however, my affections shifted to Sunday. Sometimes an overwhelming despair of datelessness seizes me on Fridays. One particularly lonely Friday night, I saw a young couple parked on the side of the road in an suv. They had just hit a deer, and were emotionally rattled. They told me they were alright, and drove away. People barreling out of Provo Canyon at 50+mph were continuously running over it. I grabbed the dead doe, dragged it off the road, and washed the blood of my hands in the freezing Provo river. This experience is an adequately representative microcosm of my Fridays. Dark, dark, dark.
ReplyDeleteI imagine that the poor angels who care for us moan every time Friday approaches..."Here we go again! Where is he going tonight? Do we have permission to cause the car to malfunction? What vices has she been itching for recently?..." and on and on. That morning-after, hung-over feeling gets old after a few decades, and it is so pleasant to be rid of it when Sunday arrives.
I hope that when I'm a real grown-up I'll appreciate Sundays more. I feel socially obligated to do as much as possible on Friday and Saturday which means I'm always exhausted on Sunday. More than an obligation, however, I feel like if I don't have some kind of social drive I'll become way too happy with sitting at home and watching TV all weekend. It is so tempting!
ReplyDeleteI agree that Fridays are recipes for trouble. Lately I have wondered how parents these days are dealing with allowing their teenagers to date. They must really trust their kids (my kids will be LUCKY if they have the same privileges) and I guess they believe that God is watching out for them and their little ones. I am very grateful for agency but sometimes I wish those angels would yell a little louder ("It's waaaay too late! Go home!"). : )