I always have such mixed feeling about Fridays.
On the one hand, of course I'm thrilled to have a weekend ahead, with all the promise it holds of leisure, getting caught up on the work I'm behind on, getting chores done, just some quiet down time.
Everybody loves Fridays, right?
On the other hand, each Friday is a marker to me of another week gone by. Another week of time I will never see again. Another week--I know this is taboo to talk about--closer to my death.
I certainly don't hate Fridays, but they do make me a little nervous. They remind me of my mortality. Some day I'll say hello to Friday for the last time, and I suspect that even if that is many, many years from now, I still won't feel like I have everything done.