Dear Friday

Pssst! Hey Friday, don’t tell the others, but we’re pretty sure you’re our favorite.

We like your spunk and your dignity (especially in the face of that embarrassing Rebecca Black incident).

We like your fish fries and happy hours, your casual days and the way you flirt with the weekend.

We look forward to your lights on crisp fall nights and your purple sunsets after long summer days.

Mostly, though, we like your delicious anticipation. The carrot of your evening helps us power through our day.

Friday, you sound like a deep happy sigh, the whoosh of a bottle cap, the pop of a cork, the clunk of two weary feet on a desk top, an opening door.

You smell like pizza, movie theatre popcorn, supper club perch.

You stretch like a glorious sunrise and we can stretch right along with you, enjoying every minute of your intoxicating joy. We both know your partner in crime, Saturday, is waiting for us like a soft down quilt.

Don’t get us wrong, we like Saturdays too.

But the weekend’s half over by the time Saturday rolls around and Sunday looms sternly.

So you, Friday, are our number one day.

Thanks, man, for being you.