Thursday Night Used To Feel Like Friday Night

Back in the ancient times, when Matt and I both had uninspiring office jobs and no children--this might have been when I worked at the prison and he was cutting grass, or when he worked at the library and I was answering phones, or possibly after we both worked at a health insurance company and I tried to merely look busy all day long--we used to have really warm feelings about Thursday night. It was like a little mini-start to the weekend. He would say, "We only have to go to work one out of the next three days!" And then on Friday we would each walk from our respective offices and have a two-hour lunch somewhere in downtown Chattanooga. And then we would spend the weekend doing nothing. We never had plans. We would drive around. Hike in the Sequatchie Valley. We saw a lot of dollar movies in those days.

Matt sitting through a mediocre movie in the middle of the day because it costs a dollar to see it...that is literally unthinkable to me now. A lost world like Atlantis is lost.

Then, when I left that insurance company job to go back to grad school (not the PhD program, another one but that's a long story), my boss said, with real trepidation in his voice, "Becky, I really want to ask you, are you taking a job with one of our competitors?" Like he was afraid I would carry all the Top Secret info over with me. And I was like, "Dude, you should want me to go take up space at Blue Cross."

All this is to say, Thursday used to feel awesome and like a night to party. And now it is the night when all the sins of the week catch up with me. Do you know what I mean?

The not getting enough sleep hits me hard on this day, as well as whatever other exertions I've got going on. I have played a metric assload of tennis this week. I'm tired.

I got hit in the side of the chin with a tennis ball at practice tonight. Kind of my bottom lip and chin. The lip looks fine, but my jaw and my neck on the opposite side hurts. I think my jaw got a good knock and I must have tensed up my neck. I really should have hit that volley.

It made eating my taco salad for supper less pleasurable. But I still managed to take some nourishment.

And while we were up getting the kids to bed, the dog peed all over the floor. After I bragged about her genius in last night's post!

I still need to make lunches and get Matt to make popcorn so I can assemble fifteen little snack bags of the stuff. I am still Snack Mom.

I guess what all of this means is that everything is great here.

I promise a more substantive post tomorrow or you know, whenever. In the meantime, let us all work to cultivate this attitude:

Good night and good luck.