It’s FRIDAAAAAAY!

When I was growing up, my dad used to walk in the door every Friday evening after work, set down his keys, hang his tie on the chair in the dinette, and say to whomever happened to be nearest, "Hey, guess what?"

"What?" we would respond.

He would then get a giant lungful of air, throwback his head, and scream at the top of his lungs, "It’s FRIDAAAAAAAAAY!"  As he would hit the A sound in "day" he would let his voice crack repeatedly, giving it a Tarzan-like quality.

Once I got out of school, I never really understood what the big deal was about the weekend.  I was a performer, and that was the busiest time.  Most Saturdays, I was doing 2, 3, or even 4 shows a day.  Sunday was church, which, even though it only lasted three hours, really lasted all day long.  What was the big deal.

Well, now that I have a traditional 9-5, I can tell you.  It’s a big deal.  Stay-at-home moms, I don’t know how you do it.  If I felt like I had to work all day long every day with no weekend, I’d go bat-@#$% crazy.  When 5:30 rolls around on Friday, I’m out the door of the office so fast that if anyone gets in my way, they’ll be on their way to the emergency room. 

Plus, it’s even better for me now that I’ve hired a cleaning woman to come and clean my apartment once a week.  (Best $30 a week I ever spent!)  She comes at 2:00 PM when I’m at work, and so when I get home at the end of the week, I’ve got a spotless apartment and two whole days of complete and total relaxation…which, of course, I use to work on my other business.

Thank heavens for the weekend.  Now if I can just figure out how to get two of them a week instead of one.  Maybe if I moved to France…