Some weeks, I just cannot see the weekend. I woke up this morning convinced that today was Thursday, only to realize within minutes that it was only Wednesday. The time until the weekend seemed infinite. I moved slower through my morning routine, trudging over to the bathroom, then ambling back to the bureau for perfume and deodorant. Then, I struggled to attach the coffee mug top, spilling hot coffee all over my hand. This took me an extra 5-10 minutes to clean up, before I finally left the apartment. I had no spring in my step on the way to the subway, and all day I've been absent enthusiasm and energy. It's a mystery to me why some weeks pass in a flash, and others meander along aimlessly until they're finally put out of their misery by the arrival of 7 p.m. on Friday night.
It seems like it's been 2:22 pm. all day long. I may as well be Bill Murray in Groundhog Day.
Tonight I am going to take the bull by the horns, put on my pj's, get into bed and pass out, thereby ending one neverending day in this endless week.
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