Thursdays are horrible. I abhor Thursdays. I like Tuesdays, but Thursday is Tuesday’s retarded cousin. Every Thursday when I wake up, Thursday tells me, “Hey Sara! Guess what, it’s Friday! Happy Friday!” I jump out of bed (okay, that’s a lie; I’ve never jumped out of bed except for the time there was a spider on my face) eager for the activities I have planned for the weekend. Usually it’s work and more work, but who cares, I think, it’s Friday! Happy Friday to me! And then, just as I am reaching the apex of my joy, Thursday jumps out of the closet and slaps me in the face, screaming, “You loser! It’s really me! Friday isn’t coming until tomorrow, loser. LO-O-O-OSER!”
And the worst part? I fall for that stupid trick every single week. I hate you, Thursday.
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