How do we keep falling for this every week? Why do we love the weekend so much when we know it’s just going to abandon us once it’s gotten its fill of us? Is our self esteem so abysmal that we will remain in such an abusive relationship for the rest of our lives?
I guess we all make a choice to love the weekend when we know its character. The bad boy persona that the weekend exudes is probably what attracts us to it.
Okay, maybe I should start drinking coffee. Otherwise, I will end up writing 500 words about this one-sided relationship we have with the weekend and the need for us to all demand that it joins us for couples counseling.
This is what happens when I write in a zombie-like state. The first thing out of my head and onto the page is usually extremely bizarre.
Speaking of bizarre, I had a dream last night that my significant other and I were out for a run in Brooklyn. I kept looking over my shoulder for my nephew and brother-in-law, whom we were apparently racing.
We were running on the sidewalk for some reason and constantly dodging pedestrians, who were going about their merry way at a snail’s pace.
Eventually, we made it to a street with an extreme incline. Even though our pursuers were nowhere to be seen, I insisted that we pick up the pace and take the hill as quickly as possible. My companion agreed, so we began our assent.
That’s when the snows came and the sidewalk was instantly covered in several inches of the white stuff. For some reason, I was now encumbered by a heavy backpack, and my running mate latched onto it because she could not gain her footing in the snow.
Eventually, we fell, slid down the street, and ended up in a pile of snow on the corner.
But we were laughing hysterically, tossing snow at each other, and ended up kissing in an extremely lovey dovey manner.
I don’t even need to look up the meaning of this dream. Clearly, it’s saying that I would enjoy running much more if I did it with my extremely attractive better half and incorporated flirty snow play and kissing in the activity.
Sometimes, my dreams are so difficult to interpret, and other times they are just like an instruction manual for my life.
I’m not sure what this week has in store for me, but I think it’s time to mentally prepare for it. Before I head off for my moment of showery zen, I just wanted to remind you to help yourself to the coffee. Please don’t tip the interns, though, because then they will expect money from me for doing their jobs.
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