Here's to Friday (or Christmas Every Weekend)

Today is Friday, and I've come to feel that Friday is the best day of the week. It's the best day because if you don't completely hate your job, you get to spend time during the day working, thereby making money, and in the evening you can stay up as late as you want because you know you don't have to work the next day (for us weekday-ers). For some, that translates into going out to a dance club or a bar or a party or any number of nighttime events. For others, it translates into curling up with their lover and having a mini movie marathon. For others it translates into getting some personal work or hobbies done and sleeping in the next day. And still, for others, it translates into a night of energy-draining, mindless, mind-blowing, semi-coma the next morning, sex. For some it translates into all (or most) of the above.

For me, it means none of the above, as, due to a lack of exercise over the past year and a half, I have the energy for almost none of those things. And, because I work as a temp, I rarely have the money either. I do stay up though, because I can. It's like being a kid again in some way; a day (or evening) to regain the innocence and freedom I lost to rent payments, student loan payments, utility payments, credit card payments, tax payments, go nowhere jobs, murdered dreams and an adult body (and the hair to go with it). I can (subconsciously) be the kid who was finally allowed to stay up after a week of (in my case, not very) strong effort at school. I still enjoy Friday, because it's the anticipatory day. The day before the big day. The day before it all slowly starts to go to pieces, and subsequently, downhill. It's Christmas Eve.

Saturday is OK, but most people waste half of the day sleeping Friday off. There's nothing wrong with that at all. I personally love it. It just makes for a lot of rushing around to do things in half-a-day that could be done more leisurely with a whole day. Saturday is the equivalent of Christmas day. I try to get up early on Saturday. Sometimes it's very easy. Most times it is not. Whether I'm tired or not, sometimes I stay in bed just because I can. Now, granted, "staying in bed" for me really only extends to about 10am at the latest, and I naturally wake up around 7am on most days, period. That likely makes my Saturday a bit longer than others'. Still, despite the ability to sleep in remoreselessly (I'm positive that's not a word), Saturday kind of sucks. It's good in the morning, when you unwrap the present of "sleeping in", but for me, Christmas day always ended with a bit of a let down. Though not impoverished, my family had very little money, and after the presents, there wasn't much else. There was the cleanup of the wrapping paper, the discovery that the toy I wanted to play with the most needed batteries, and that my parents had forgotten to buy them (or in some cases, couldn't afford them until the following week). So there was all the elation of Christmas morning, followed by the gradual decline in spirit throughout the day.

My parents did all they could (and many Christmas' it was considerable), but even as the understanding child I was, it was still a bit of a letdown. And so, that is how Saturday feels. After the intital fun of sleeping in, and maybe even some morning-sex, there come the tasks of cleaning the house, doing the laundry, going to the bank, going to the post office, going to the store, etc., etc., etc. If you're lucky, maybe you get to go the park or the museum or play sports, or something, and hanging with friends and/or family may take some of the edge off. However, the chore requirements always introduce some let down, as so much of the remaining day is consumed by them.

Sunday (for me) is the day after Christmas. It's relaxing, and you may have little to do, but you know that the next day, things will largely be back to "normal" and the "holiday spirit" has already started to fade, if it hasn't completely done so already. Many are using the morning to relax after a chore and activity-filled Saturday, but they (who work) know the evening becomes the time when all the preparation for the next workday begins. The hair starts getting done, the clothes are laid out, the lunch is made, and the earlier bedtime is reintroduced.

I would wish for everyday to be Friday, but Friday can't be Friday without Saturday and Sunday, otherwise Friday becomes Monday, and that's the last day I look forward to seeing.

Come Sunday, the holidays are over.

Back to the regular, cruel world.