Working twenty hours between Monday and Thursday is hard. It means middle of the week homework always seems half done and sleep is low on the priority list. But it also means that Thursday is Friday, sort of, and once class ends at noon on the real Friday I feel like a king. Here is the weekend waiting for me like a full-sailed ship, and here am I, its doughty captain.
And the job of the first voyage of this weekend-ship is always to run all the tiny, but important errands that I haven't been able to do for the last five days. Today I visited the banks, depositing the little slips of paper that represent all the conversations with fascinating students, all the copies, all the smiles, and all the time not wasted in the past two weeks; and making loan-payment no. 30 on my car. Then there's the gas station, to fill up the car that I now officially own half of. The library, to return my books, pay my fines because they're late as always. All these little things used to seem so tedious when I had more time. But the glow of the maiden voyage of the weekend makes them somehow excessively pleasant.
Included in these errands is always a stop at Macey's where I allow myself to leisurely stroll the aisles gathering provisions for the days ahead. Today I aimed for hobbit-like food since I promised to contribute to Amanda's entmoot tonight. The strawberries were right in front and they smelled like weekend; then there was a display of Keebler cookies on sale, and those little elves could probably pass for hobbits, so, of course; I don't think they have fruit sours in the Shire, but Amanda loves them; and, last but not least, blueberry cream loafs from the day-old bakery--which was a complete score because I've always wanted to try them, but could never justify the price.
