Dow Jones, Gold and Silver indexes and Oil prices have nothing on time. Time, that little tick-tock, is the most precious commodity there is. It is its scarceness that inflates its value and it’s become obvious to me that its availability decreases as we age.
Similarly to my peers and colleagues, I more often than not find myself wishing for that trophy day we call “Friday”. We wish for Monday to kiss our collectives asses, and Tuesday through Thursday to hurry on by without any more presence than a deaf\mute in a concert. But Friday, ah Friday arrives, decked in white suite and a walking cane, spreading it’s coolness on us, reminding us why we live.
Friday should be called Soulday.
The time when the collective human spirit is revitalized and once again we revel in our livelihood, wanting to squeeze every drop out life. If life gives us lemons, then on Friday is when we make lemonade.
Sad. We are wishing away our life for the sake of one day, and the promise of a two- day break. I know that for most of us, Monday through Thursday are just other crap routine days, but crap or not, it is our routine. Our days. The kind that will never come again. What happens if we die today, or tomorrow and never make it to Friday? Will we feel cheated because we missed out on your Soulday? Enjoy each day, all of them, even the crap ones; they are the last of their kind.
This thoughtful moment brought to you by espresso-in-my-veins.
Now, go forth and reproduce, or jerk off… whatever.