Weekend Eve

Tomorrow is Friday.

I toiled at my chosen profession for 33 years and each week treasured Friday as it was emblematic of weekend eve. Come quittin' time on the 6th day of the week, a body's soul could look forward to rest, relaxation, and adult beverage cooled to a level of delight.

Then came "retirement". One soon learned to feel regret at Fridays. Friday meant that the poor working slobs would be crowding the roadways, teeming in the stores, and generally messing up the ambiance. Your faithful ranch hand would just sulk in the shadows and wistfully long for Monday when the poor cretins would return to their chosen salt mine leaving the neighborhood a quite Garden of Eden once again.

But, trouble always seems to seek out paradise? Your humble erudite scribe inexplicably returned to the workplace and has for tres anos endeavored to persevere at gainful employment.

Tomorrow is Friday.

Aaah the sweet bliss of it all!