A fog of confusion hung over The House on the Hill this morning, Modern Philosophers.
I awakened from an odd dream convinced that it was Friday (which would be a good thing), and realized I had not prepared or purchased anything for the Potluck at work (which was a bad thing).
Unsure of what day it was, I set out to find someone to set me straight.
I scampered up to the attic, to ask the Woodburys, the Ghost Family that haunts The House on the Hill. As the original owners of my home, I was sure they would know what day of the week it was.
However, when I asked Grandpa Jebediah, he gave me a confused look and then finally told me it was 1879.
I decided to climb out of the attic window and onto the roof to ask Gary, my loyal Gargoyle. My safety is Gary’s top priority, so I was certain he would have the information vital to helping me maintain my sanity.
Unfortunately, I had arrived at an inopportune time. I could see my Gargoyle circling in the sky off in the distance as a pack of Flying Monkeys playfully chased after him.
Drat! I really wanted it to be Friday, but then again, I didn’t want to have to rush to the grocery store to buy something for the Potluck. I needed an answer. There had to be someone in The House on the Hill who knew what day it was.
I went back into the house and rushed down the stairs. I had been awakened in the middle of the night by a loud noise in the living room.
Since Gary hadn’t immediately appeared at my bedside to rescue me, I knew that the intruder had to be Seamus. Maine’s only Leprechaun liked to sleep off his hangovers on my couch.
When I rushed into the living room, however, Seamus was nowhere to be found. On a hunch, I headed for the bathroom. Sure enough, the little guy was passed out in my bathtub, his shillelagh clutched at his side.
Just when I was about to give up and go back to bed, the front door opened and one of the interns entered. I don’t know their names (why get attached when they are only going to leave at the end of the semester?), but I thought of this one as “Tall, redheaded dude, who needs to realize sweatpants aren’t proper work attire”.
“What day is it?” I asked the aforementioned intern.
“Thursday,” he replied, making him the only intern to land a speaking part on the blog this semester. Congratulations.
“Cool,” I replied. “I’ve got to get ready for work. Can you make sure someone goes up to the grocery store today to buy something for my Potluck tomorrow? Grab a few coins out of Seamus’ pot of gold to pay for it. He’s not going to miss it.”
The intern nodded, and I trudged back up the stairs to get my clothes for work.
I wasn’t thrilled that it was only Thursday and I had one more workday to contend with, but I decided to think of today as Friday Eve. That just sounded more festive, and I bet it will help make the day pass a little quicker.
Happy Friday Eve, Modern Philosophers!
Happy Friday Eve! We can do this!
Amen!
Happy Friday eve. All the days are nice these days.
That is a very positive way of looking at it!
I thought Tuesday was Friday. Talk about depressing.
Everyone knows Tuesday is Hump Day Eve, silly. 🙂
Happy Friday Eve! How many more hours to go? 😮
The work day is over, so it’s basically Friday now. 🙂
Happy Friday Eve! 🙂
Thank you!
Could we just go ahead and make all future Thursdays into Friday Eves? I like the idea. So quietly encouraging. In a confused sort of way.
I second that motion. The motion has been passed! 🙂
Happy Friday Eve Austin. And tomorrow we have Good Friday… again.
Every Friday is a good one… 🙂