I love sleeping in on the weekend. Who doesn’t? It would be un-American.
I opened my eyes, noticed light was coming in through the window, and luxuriated in the feeling of a Saturday just getting started. No plans, that my sleep-fogged mind could recall. It was the ultimate “living in the moment” moment. Bed, blanket, pillow… all my best friends were there. I heard Beth through the closed door, asking Cheryl about a mug.
What a wife! She’s up, in a bit of pain, letting me sleep in… take a break.
I’m filled with love.
The fog starts to recede.
Is it really Saturday? Am I really free?
The fog doesn’t go away, but it slides away in all the wrong places. I remember leaving work with a headache. I remember laying down in bed with the shades drawn and hoping for sleep.
It’s not Saturday morning. It’s late Tuesday afternoon.
Curses!
Alright, so it’s not Saturday. My head doesn’t hurt anymore. That’s something.
Oh man, that’s almost as bad as waking up thinking it’s Saturday but it’s Monday morning.
That is crazy!