I guess it’s the second week of summer vacation now? I think that’s right. At least, where we live. Truth be told, the minute summer break starts for the kids, I immediately lose the ability to track time and/or events in a meaningful, relative way. I think it’s like some built-in defense mechanism to keep me from obsessing over the fact that while they’re at home all day doing what I want to be doing—i.e, playing video games, hanging out with friends, bickering amongst themselves about inane pointless things, and eating nacho-dusted snack chips*—I’ll be at work. You know, working.
That is, trying to find a more comfortable spot underneath the gum-coated sole of The Man’s boot heel.
Aaaaanyway. My whole lack of understanding relative calendar time isn’t the same for me as an adult as it was when I was a kid, newly freed from the bonds of my own educational restraint for the summer. Back then, the only way I knew what day was what as that Saturday had cartoons I could watch while toasting a frozen waffle. But if the day was just some random Wednesday? What did “Wednesday” even mean? Was it a word? Doesn’t sound like a word. Weird.
Nowadays, during summer, I just can’t keep track of where we are in a given month. Is it June? Early June, right? No? Mid June? End of July. Hell, who knows?
I do know that when it’s Wednesday, it’s Wednesday, and that “Wednesday” isn’t just some strange word made up by non-humans. The only exceptions to the I-Know-The-Day-Of-The-Week assertion, of course, are those days when it’s Wednesday but my brain is being a huge bag of warted jerktoads and is convinced for some inexplicable reason that it’s actually Thursday ahead of schedule. Seriously, brain, get it straight! I mean, Wednesday isn’t so bad. You can cope with it, knowing that a weekend is close enough that it’s safe to start chopping the ice for margaritas. But when you think it’s Thursday and you’re all ready to break out the tequila, the sunscreen, and that new book with the international spies having sexytimes amidst multiple plots for World Domination, solely because you believe you’re standing over the precipice of two and a half days of free time, only to have reality sink in and remember that playtime is an extra 24 hours further away?
Well, I think Darth Vader said it best when he said:
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
At any rate, it’s definitely Friday right now, which is quite clearly the opposite of all the kvetching above. That is to say, Margarita Time is Upon Us. Mix, drink, and be happy! And hopefully the oversexed spy protagonist in your book will somehow manage to prevent dastardly World Domination and still find time for one last fling with Throwaway Character Y.
While you think about reading about that, I’m going to spend the next eight and a half weeks tracking the progress of Summer Vacation. That is, I’ll be tagging each week in a post from now until the start of school in the middle of August in order to help us all keep in mind that the glory of summer is finite and fleeting. And also that, Thank All Things Deep Fried And Topped with Powdered Sugar, school will start again soon.
With luck, some of us will still have a thimble full of sanity to meet it.
Have a great weekend! And, uh, don’t set the place on fire.
Pud’n
*I would consume a great deal more of these than the Puddinette lets the kids eat. I would also likely get yelled at frequently for orange fingers.
Puddintopia 