Definitely Working for the Weekend, but not quite in a Loverboy kind of way (from ABC news)
I dig Fridays. Shocker, right? I’m under the impression that most people dig Fridays (ex: Loverboy’s hit single Everybody’s Working for the Weekend). Friday is a signifier of weekly survival; you did it. You plowed through five days of work/class/obligations and now you’re rewarded with two glorious days of relaxation, sleep, and good times.
I’ve developed a Friday afternoon ritual: I get out of Spanish class at 11:50, and I immediately head home as fast as I can while calling my mom. Sometimes she answers, but usually not because she’s at work. If she picks up, I catch her up on my life. If she doesn’t answer, or when I’m done filling in all the amazing details of my exciting life (tests, rehearsals, practices, breathing and possessing other qualities of being alive), I go to my room, close the door, and do nothing.
Nothing.
Sweet, beautiful nothing.
I’m a super busy girl. I wake up in the morning and pack my bag with the intention of never going home until the end of the day, which sometimes isn’t until 11 or 11:30. I constantly have rehearsals and discussions and classes, and the gaps between all of those are filled with homework. It’s taxing, but I love it.
And when I get home after Spanish class, I revel in the fact that I can lay in my bed in silence (or sometimes not, I’ve been listening to an old Iron and Wine album a lot, which hopefully you currently listening to, if you clicked my link for helpful supplemental music like I suggested) and not do anything. No one is home yet, the sun shines delightfully through my window, and the business stops.
And that’s why I love Fridays.