“Have a good weekend!” she said.
“Thanks,” I said.
After a while, you get tired of correcting people. I work the weekends. My days off are Mondays and Tuesdays. I miss the festivals, the farmers markets, and apparently every possible opportunity to have a freakin’ date.
It’s kind of a weird feeling, because I’m always slightly out of sync with the weekly Zeitgeist. When Friday rolls around, you sense a societal lightening of mood, a slight slacking off in the average workplace. A mounting excitement. But Fridays are my “Wednesdays”, so personally, I’m not feeling that TGIF.
On Sundays, everyone seems kind of mellow and not looking forward to the week ahead, but those are my “Fridays”, so woo-hoo! I’m in a great mood. And then on Mondays, I’m thrilled to have my first day off, and everyone else has settled down into this general Monday malaise. Party poopers.
Don’t even get me started on holidays, most of which I wind up working…