You hear people preach about how you aren’t supposed to spend life waiting. Waiting for the work week to be over. Waiting for an answer. Waiting for it to be the “right time”, etc. Hell, Dr. Seuss wrote a book called “Oh, the Places You’ll Go” that emphasizes the fact that everyone is continuously waiting for something, and you just have to get out there and live life!
I know this because I have read aforementioned book to my content-with-his-routine son Mason every night for the past 6 months. For any and all who were wondering.
So yes. It would be wise to live in the moment, and not rush the present waiting for a day in the future. Not that I don’t enjoy the work week at all, my point here is that it doesn’t seem to matter how many people tell me or how many places I read it: I will never stop waiting for Friday! It is a glorious day filled with anticipation of the upcoming weekend and all the thrills that may fill it! (Even if all that means is a solo trip to Target, clean laundry, and a fresh mani.) Ahhhhh… The weekend. This particular one will be filled with pancakes, work tomorrow morning for my husband (who I lovingly refer to as Jer), and packing for our upcoming move to our first honest-to-goodness home that WE own. What a concept! I truly can’t wait to get the hell outta dodge. Renting hasn’t been a complete nightmare (aside from, you know, black mold in the closets and around the window frames, a leaky roof in the 3 seasons room, a toilet that won’t flush if more that one single solitary square of 1 ply toilet paper is placed into it, neighbors who play metal horseshoes at midnight, children who throw balls against our windows, and, most recently, honey bees in the wall…. Somewhere. Usual stuff.) All of that said, I need to thank the good Lord for blessing us with this rental home for the last 3 years. So many “firsts” have happened here, and so many exciting life events. A newborn baby. A new job. A marriage. And it’s because of the memories that this move will be bittersweet.
Back of my original point: my love of Fridays! I feel that it is the one night of the week where I can actually be a little selfish with my time and spend it on myself. There are no work deadlines the next day. No alarm that will go off (unless you count one sleepy eyed toddler climbing up onto your bed and into your covers an alarm. There are days that I do and days that I don’t!), and no makeup applied. Perhaps even no bra worn, if I’m feeling especially rebellious. Best of all, if I want to take Mason to my Grandpa’s antique shop, I can. If he wants to run like a wild Indian at the playground, I can join him. If I want to pass the fuck out while he naps, I can do that too. If I want to plop his little butt in front of the tv and let Frozen entertain him for an hour while I clean, I can do that. The beauty of it all is there is no SCHEDULE to it. On the flip side, if I want to get dressed in full drag and hit Water Street with the ladies for ‘tinis and take countless selfies that we think look good at the time and accept drinks from strangers and then accidentally smash the glass on my foot (no, I’m not talking from experience), I can DO THAT TOO! I suppose it goes without saying that the latter happens far less frequently than the former but let’s be honest, who can actually DRINK like that every weekend anymore? I would absolutely die.
The weird thing about this particular Friday (and the last few days and I’m sure many upcoming ones) is that it is unusually cold for this time of year. DO NOT give me this “you live in Milwaukee” crap. I don’t care how long you foolishly decide to stay here, there is no “getting used to” 40 degrees in September. Or 20 in October. Or -10 all the months thereafter until April with a few days where it is literally -40 with the windchill (And no, I’m not joking. A joke would be funny and this subject just is not. You know, on second thought, it is. It’s funny that I continue to live where the air hurts my face.) Granted, this is my HOME, and I will defend MKE in almost every instance but not this one. It’s downright preposterous. Feels good to get that out of my system.
That said, I deserve an hour of Netflix (wrapped in a North Face meant for winter months and a blanket). After all, is there any other way to spend a Friday night?!