I hate how the edge of Sunday bites deep with the incessant chant of 'You have to work tomorrow'.
Whispering in the back of your head, tainting all the joy and fun of the last day of your weekend.
Can we do something after supper? Wow, that looks like a great show. Should I stay up and watch it?
A meteor shower? Sounds great! But....
I have to work tomorrow.
Blech. And Urgh.
Today is my Sunday - tomorrow I work at the hospital. I'm torn between making the absolute most of it (Wanna dye your hair with Kool-Aid*, Roseyroo? Cass, bet I can make soap turn into snow.** Wanna bet?) and floating, lazily and limply, in the pool.
Tonight we're having a great meal - stuff I've been waiting all week to cook, and dessert, and then...
and then the pool is mine.
*We may repeat this again some other day. It either didn't work or R's locks are too dark to show.
** Really? YES.