Friday, March 25, 2011

My, how things change -- but I still love you, Friday nights.

My, how things change.

As a younger person, I'd look forward to Friday all week -- it was the best night to go out because you knew you could sleep in the next morning. Ah, a Friday night at a party or a bar!  Leave the week's stresses behind. Have a beer. Make out with a cute guy from one of your journalism classes. (Kids, if you're reading this, sorry for grossing you out a little.) But I digress. 

Today is Friday. It's after 8 p.m. I'm just home from work. And really, even if I were to unearth a better offer, I can't wait to put on my sweats, eat some Mexican food, and do nothing. Then comes the best part -- sleeping in on Saturday morning.

I've never been, and never will I be, a morning person. Even if I get to bed at a reasonable hour, which rarely happens, I don't sleep well because I know I have to get up early. Doesn't make sense? You must be a morning person.

Ah, sweet Friday night. I can stay up as late as I want, knowing nothing likely will wake me early. I rarely sleep till noon, but you can bet I'm lounging well past my weekday wake-up time. As long as I'm in the shower by 12, it's a productive day.

We live in a world of go more, do more, be more. But on Friday nights, I can disconnect and allow myself to be a slug. I don't have many vices; I don't smoke, rarely drink, don't spend oodles of money, and I'm even cutting down on my beloved caffeine. So I'll give myself the unabashed, unadulterated joy of knowing the alarm will not go off in the morning, and my feet won't hit the floor until I'm good and ready for them to.

When I was young, I assumed that older people enjoyed staying home as some kind of sad default. You grew up, you lost your looks, you ran out of options -- so you stayed put on the weekends. Well, luckily, I can tell you that's not true; I'm certainly not Angelina Jolie, but I'm also not afraid to show my face in public. If I wanted to go out, I could probably cajole Kevin to go with me.

But the thing is, I'm as giddy about dressing down to stay home as I ever was about dressing up to go out. The excitement I feel over not having a darned thing to do tonight is every bit as palpable as the beat in the Madonna music I used to dance around to while getting ready to go to the Copper Dollar.

If your Friday night is being spent in a bar, at a party, or making out with a cute boy from your journalism class, more power to you. I'll raise a glass of caffeine-free Mountain Few to you as I prop my feet up and watch Pawn Stars.

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