It’s a Friday and everyone knowns that on Fridays something happens. In offices around the country and cubes to the ends of the earth, joyous bursts of “It’s a Friday” erupt on faces. Bounces return to once-dragging steps. And “good-mornings” feel a little less like a mockery. It’s the light in a co-worker’s eyes as the clock nears 4 or 5pm and the excuses of “anything to get me out of here” begin formulating in heads. It’s the breaking of silence, the stretching of arms and legs from beneath flimsy “steel” desks and ice-age computers. It’s the first step toward the door, quickly followed by the second and third as if forty-hours of sole-sucking wasn’t enough for one week and we feel bad for leaving before the forty-plus mark is hit. It’s the blissful cries of hearts as the sun hits our faces and the parking lot draws near. The sound of the trees rusting in the wind, foreignly loud to once-deaf ears. The thoughts of “two whole days!” overwhelming hot-dog roasting car interiors. And that first engine turning… and the sound of the windows gliding down… and the feeling of the breeze on your face as the jail cell is left in the rear-view mirror…

Ahhhhhh yes!!!! The weekend is so near I can taste it!!!