I wish it was Friday. But since tomorrow is Thursday that's better than Monday. Counting the days, hours, minutes until Friday is like watching paint dry, water boil, or a penny waiting for change. Sometimes it's an accident waiting to happen, like Monday happening over and over again ad infinitum and, as we all know, accidents will happen. But then again it could be a happy accident, like Friday coming right after Monday. Or a chapter of accidents, like 6 Fridays after 3 Mondays which really is all my eye and Peggy Martin. And if you don't know what that means look it up.
Where was I? Oh yes. I seem to be all over the map and Hell's half acre. As a rule, one should never fall asleep at the switch. Like me. Let me reassure you that I'm not really as at the coalface, or away with the fairies as I might seem to be at this point in my discourse.
All I just need to do is go back to the drawing board, put balls to the wall and batten down the hatches. Because when it finally comes down to it, at the end of the day, just when I'm at wits' end or the end of my tether, Friday finally arrives. And all's well that ends well.
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