Friday, Get your Face On

Hi, it's me. Where did I go? It doesn't matter. I just wanted to say how out of place I feel when I'm working on a Friday and out on the streets before sundown. No, I'm still working but I've gone out to buy some cheap sushi and to see if the magazine shop has bothered to stock anything worth reading or remotely current. Everyone has got their weekend faces on, the patios are buzzing with laughter, cars are on high intensity as they hurry back home. And the sun: the sun is alive and throbbing and refusing to quit. The weekend is here! The weekend is glorious and it is here, now. Right now.

Meanwhile I haven't got my game face on. Hell, I haven't even shaved. I'm walking back to office, squinting against the low sun. My hair still needs to be cut. It is in Q-tip mode and not especially sexy. And I'm just walking past the patios, the weekenders, the free ones, the liberated. Yes, I suppose I'm not alone. Those leggy hostesses and servers at Earl's aren't doing it out of the kindness of the hearts. The clerks at Timmy's probably have a number of things they'd rather be doing tonight than sling donuts. I know this. Things could be worse for me. Me, the guys working nights this week, the guy who's walking back to the office with his cheap sushi and a quiet evening with the monitors and the web surfing and the blogging.

Things could be a lot worse this Friday night.