I'm having a comfy Sunday. It's freezing outside, so I have an excuse to stay in and catch up on work, purging the stuff that mysteriously sticks around after you no longer it, and watching basketball. I've had a fun, busy weekend. I planned to have a fun, busy weekend.
On Friday, someone sent me a note that started with, "TGIF!" I thought about what that sounds like when you're sitting in prison. Who cares if it's Friday? There's nothing to look forward to. How sad. I didn't have anything to look forward to either. But I'm not in prison.
I called my mom late in the day and told her I'd take her to see a movie. She was in shock. We ended up picking up her friend who was looking forward to another Friday night watching television. She raced out to my car as though she was afraid I'd leave her behind. When she got in she said, "I can't believe how much fun it feels to go out on Friday night." When did Friday night change from deciding what club to go dancing and now it's a hot bath and book?
The movie was perfect. On Saturday I worked, but called my daughters and sister-in-law to make plans to go out to dinner. If I didn't plan it, I'd be doing nothing. Such a great night. I met my daughter's new boyfriend. My other daughter looked so cute in her new coat. We brought our own wine. I brought my own corkscrew. The waitress laughed and said, "Boy you came prepared."
Yes I did. I planned it!
This is living. Enjoying dinner and time with your family and friends. A simple pleasure that I know eludes Blagojevich every Friday afternoon. When the waitress asked about dessert, I told her to bring it on! TGIF!