Don’t go checking your calendars, it is still Thursday, well it is where I am, typing this. But Fridays are special; it doesn’t matter that it’s been over a year since I last had a “normal” working week, or that I only worked three days back then, nor even that Saturday can be a work day now, they still give me a frisson of excitement.
Friday. The day I first dropped from my nine to five working week. Friday, the day MasterS’s school finished at lunchtime, so we could spend time together.
Friday, the day MasterS’s school finished at lunchtime, so I had a whole morning to myself. Friday, the day I ran, got my haircut, went shopping.
Friday, the night MrS (before he was MrS) came for dinner. Friday nights eating, and chatting and playing games. Friday the day we’d drive to the country.
Friday, the night for a cocktail. Friday the night for dressing up and having fun. Friday the night to drive twenty miles for a quiz and curry with friends.
Friday, the night Mum and I watched TV together while Dad and BigSis. were out. Friday the night for dancing and watching the boys.
Friday, the week dusted down, and a sniff of expectation.
It’s Friday tomorrow.
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