Yesterday, Friday, I was driving through our old neighbourhood and I had a bit of homesickness. Not just for our old house, but our old life. Fridays were different, and special. Fridays used to be full of potential. If I didn't have to work, I would have worked the night before so I would spend the day sleeping. Even if you had to work, or go school, there was always the pleasant thought all day that it was Fri-day-night. There would be fun, and mischief, and possibly some mayhem. In high school and university I remembered that we would all start gathering in the evening planning to do something, or absolutely nothing at all. Before Jeff and I lived together, whatever we were doing, we would meet up at the end of the day at one of our houses to sleep in the next morning. There would be late night junkfood; McDonald's or 'Za in high school, Sun-Sun's in university or Shanghai cowgirl in our "grown up" days.
Fridays are different now. This friday I spent the day taking my poo-exploding baby to the doctor, doing laundry, and supervising the carpet dudes putting in the new carpet in the attic. Different. Different good or different bad? Both.
This friday I had a dinner date of noodles and apples slices, I spent my evening throwing toys back in a box because it made my date laugh. I hid under a blanket to have it pulled off my head and washed her hair. I said good night with cuddles and did yet another load of laundry. And I curled up on the couch with my book and had a beer. Not a bad night at all.