Not because it's pay day (because that just seems to be a reminder of exactly how poor you are), but because it's the one day out of the week that I am not forced to pry open my crusty eyeballs before the sun comes up and cart everyone across the universe in order to get them to school on time while Mr. BFG runs around the house like a maniac at the absolute last possible second with his shoes untied and fly unzipped.
It is also the one day each week that it's perfectly acceptable to sit around in your pajamas while writing a blog and listening to iTunes. Nobody can see me. Except for maybe the people who are unfortunate enough to live next door to us (though, if it were me, I'd be grateful because we're practically free birth control).
On Fridays, the boys can hang out in the stale pajamas and spill milk on my table because I'm not in a hurry to get out the door. There is no pressure to pry the sticky Golden Grahams off the floor or wipe down the counters before running off to our next destination. They can sit at the train table and build with blocks while yelling, "look mommy, look mommy, mommylooklooklookmommy, MOMMY LOOK AT MY EVIL PLAYGROUND RIGHT NOW!!!!"
I can check my email at my leisure. I can take the time to check out the "free sandwich" message and be all ticked off because it mentions nothing actually free or sandwich related. My coffee isn't drained within two minutes and I can enjoy my granola while listening to Elton John.
On Friday, I don't have to worry about Reese saying super serious things like, "you have to be very careful with farts because you COULD squirt out some juice, right" in public. I am free to reign with an iron fist, instead of ruling in a gentle voice and pats on the head (when what you really want to do is yell, "get out of the damned car already!"). Nobody notices if you take a dose of NyQuil in an act of desperation in order to get rid of your migraine. Instead you can pass out on the couch for hours while people decide to notify the police after reading about it on your blog.
You can listen to Nelson. Because nobody judges your music tastes on Fridays.
I can check my email at my leisure. I can take the time to check out the "free sandwich" message and be all ticked off because it mentions nothing actually free or sandwich related. My coffee isn't drained within two minutes and I can enjoy my granola while listening to Elton John.
On Friday, I don't have to worry about Reese saying super serious things like, "you have to be very careful with farts because you COULD squirt out some juice, right" in public. I am free to reign with an iron fist, instead of ruling in a gentle voice and pats on the head (when what you really want to do is yell, "get out of the damned car already!"). Nobody notices if you take a dose of NyQuil in an act of desperation in order to get rid of your migraine. Instead you can pass out on the couch for hours while people decide to notify the police after reading about it on your blog.
You can listen to Nelson. Because nobody judges your music tastes on Fridays.
On Friday, I can fold laundry in front of trashy television shows. I can feed the boys pizza and let them stay up late. I can freak out and lock my doors when there's word of an armed robbery and a suspect on the loose. The housework can go to pot because tomorrow is Saturday and it's going to rain anyway which means you'll have plenty of time to do it in your abject boredom.
The mailman doesn't care when he's greeted with a chorus of preschoolers hollering "I like big butts and I cannot lie." Because he's about to go home and get his drink on while looking at all the dirty magazines he steals from people on his route all week long (pretty sure his anaconda don't want none unless you got buns, hun).
The mailman doesn't care when he's greeted with a chorus of preschoolers hollering "I like big butts and I cannot lie." Because he's about to go home and get his drink on while looking at all the dirty magazines he steals from people on his route all week long (pretty sure his anaconda don't want none unless you got buns, hun).
On Fridays, everyone is happy because they have two whole days until the week starts all over again. And they totally don't care that you're rocking out to Walkin' on Sunshine. Because they are too.
4 comments:
Ok I may have to judge you for listening to Nelson. Friday or not, that is just wrong.
Nelson! I loved Nelson. :P
Sounds like a damn good time over at your place!
I have to know how this all works. Do the kids not have school on Fridays? Fridays at our house are just like any other day of the week until 5:00 so I must find out your secret.
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