Oh boy, Friday night.
Waited all week for this.
Headed out of the office, with a smile on my face and a spring in my step.
I really don’t have any plans.
Might as well stop for a beer or two and meet the regulars at the bar.
The bar crowd orders a shot and a beer and they are on their way home.
After all, it is the weekend.
Yes, the weekend.
Then why do I suddenly feel tired?
I can’t wait to get home, and into my pajamas.
Friday nights are not what they used to be.
The weekend party animal needs her beauty rest.
It’s been a tumultuous week.
730pm and the Chicken Butt is too pooped to pop.
I wonder if this is an age thing.
Looking back on my life, I finally realize that Friday nights have always been like this.
It is a night to crash.
To adjust to the non working life, without an alarm clock, for 2 days.
But it seems that it is the only night I go to bed early.
The cat goes out.
As I open the door, I say, “Hey, you better make it snappy. This old gal is tired.”
I head in to bed.
I am jolted awake several times in the next few hours, getting up and looking for the cat.
It’s Saturday morning. 5am.
Should I or shouldn’t I stay up?
2 hours later, I hear, “Oh Wow!” at the door.
I am on my 3rd cup of coffee.
I am a mess.
I feed the cat.
He goes to bed.
In my spot.
Laughing, I sing that old song, “Oh what a night.”
And so it goes.
On Monday, I will start the weekly count down, asking the age old question,
“Is it Friday yet?”