Friday

8 am.  I am still cocooned under the covers, checking Twitter.  Sunlight is pouring through the garden doors, bejewelling the banks of snow on the deck.  As remarkable as the picture is, I would appreciate it more were it not the end of March.  My sensible ego is telling me to get up, get on with the day; there's lots to do.  Weekends evaporate.

Wait a minute--it's Friday, not Saturday.  One of my gifts to my "retired" self is a day at home to work other projects.

Later, I am enjoying banana muffins and tea with Elmer and a friend.  They talk music, as usual, and cars, and family.  Careless of the clock, I relish the conversation.  Elmer mentions playing at a dance tomorrow night.  What?  A dance on Sunday night?

Wait a minute--it's Friday, not Saturday.  This is my long weekend.

During the afternoon, I park myself at my desk to finish a section in my current project.  To stretch my legs, I head to the piano to prepare tomorrow's liturgy.  One part of my brain is thinking about choir practice tomorrow--should be getting that ready.

Wait a minute--it's Friday, not Saturday.  I can practice tomorrow as well, even if I am doing two liturgies this weekend.

All through the afternoon, I indulge my ADD.  I walk downtown for exercise and an errand, Google sites for inspiration for a costume party, rummage through my old clothes for possibilities, play a little piano, search for a music book I've put at such a good place I can't find it, chat with my daughter, laugh about our own private "normal."  Guilt attempts to invade my consciousness--not so much work on the project today as I had planned.  Music will usurp most of tomorrow.

Wait a minute--it's only Friday, not Saturday.  I have gained a whole day.

Fridays regularly confuse me like this now.  All through the day, a sense of urgency drifts over me like wisps of fog during an early morning drive, clouding my way, then lifting suddenly to clear the view, the result of a lifetime of clock-watching.

I'm getting used to my free Fridays.  They may lead to confusion for a while, but it's the good kind.