This morning dragged on for what felt like a month, Thursday a leap year, Wednesday through to Tuesday all of my twenties, and don’t ask me about Monday because that’s way before I was born!
Thankfully my brood of six-legged insects hasn’t grown any bigger (although my keyboard does smell vaguely better), and Jaws and I are on a first name basis having stapled our way through the mess of reports detailing how profits are up and orangutan stomach sizes are down. Only another three more hours until I get to escape to a place where there aren’t any newsletters, droning computers, reptiles for bosses, or teary kids and terrified parents to reunite after being separated between ice cream stands.
And even though I sincerely thank the inventors of the Roman calendar for pausing all this insanity, I still can’t help but wonder why they didn’t invent two weekends a week instead of one.
Ms sincerely-hoping-it’s-still-Friday M.
