Friday Nights

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I don’t care who you are or what you do for a living the Friday afternoon get-away is a great feeling.

Back in college the guys who lived below us would start Friday morning by blasting the song, “The Boys Are Back in Town.”

8 a.m. on the dot, at full volume. I can’t hear that song and not think of that.

After college and well into my working career, Friday nights were reserved for happy hour.

I’d get to the bar and have a few beers to blow off steam.

A lot of steam.

As the kids arrived, Friday nights were usually the nights when we’d go out to dinner.

I’d be so happy that the work week was done and I’d spend 48 hours doing something with the boys.

I bring this all up because on Friday afternoon, battling the stifling heat, I grew excited for the coming weekend.

I hurried home and wrote my reports quickly and it dawned on me:

No one was home and there weren’t any plans. Besides, I was worn out from the hot sun. 

Wow.

Not a whole lot to be fired up about!

And I thought about my Dad and how it was a struggle to get him to go out of the house on the weekends, but now I know the feeling.

It’s all about finding the time to relax.

No more blaring music. No happy hour drinks.

The highlight of Friday night?

We had really good sweet corn from a roadside stand!

By 9:00 Melky was reminding me that we needed to think about going to bed.

We tried to reason with her.

“It’s Friday! I stay up later on Fridays!”

By 10:00 I was in bed, animals all around me.

I read until I drifted off, startled myself awake, and went right back to sleep.

TGIF.

Fridays ain’t what they used to be.

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