TGIF - thank goodness it's Friday. Why? Why do we struggle all week and count the minutes until Friday? Friday is just a day, like any other. It has 24 hours in it, limited time to do whatever you wish. It's nothing special.
We love Friday because the next day is Saturday. Saturday is generally our play day. Even the pets know when it's Saturday.
Here's the rub - too many of us crave the wonder of Friday, anticipating everything we can do on Saturday, and then Saturday comes ... followed by Sunday (which can be another play day or a day of family gathering) and...Monday arrives. And we slump over our desks and count the minutes to Friday.
It's a wicked cycle. It accomplishes nothing. It often creates negativity that translates into lost opportunities.
I, too, love Friday. In my later years, I treat Friday as a gift. It's not the 'end' of the week, it's the beginning of playtime. I don't count the minutes of the week away, waiting anxiously for Friday. I embrace Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday and make sure I use each of those 24 hours effectively. When Friday arrives, I smile, I take a little longer to enjoy my coffee, I rub Emily a little longer, I cuddle Olive a bit longer, and I give Molly a kiss on her head.
Then, I complete the work I need to complete, with joy in my heart. I stop to walk the dogs or make a smoothie or sit in the rocker for a few minutes and contemplate not only what I've accomplished throughout out the week, but what I have planned for the weekend. I enjoy every minute of the day.
"I don't work on Fridays," a good friend once said to me. I was flabbergasted. How can that be? I asked. Oh, he said, it's a choice. I choose not to work on Friday. It's family time.
He's a consultant so it's a bit easier for him. He answers only to himself and his clients. There is no "boss" hovering in the background making sure he's putting in his 'time'.
I thought about that statement for a very long time. I want to take Friday's off, too, I told him a few weeks later, after I'd contemplated the idea to death, I think.
"Do it," he said. With a little laugh. A laugh that said, "What are you waiting for?"
I sighed. I procrastinated. I worked feverishly on Friday, so I could try and relax on Saturday. But, when Saturday came, I was so worried that I hadn't completed this or that project, or written this or that post, or followed up on this or that email, I went through the day with knots in my stomach.