Fridays are notorious for being the most looked forward to day of the week for everyone that works a 9-5, Monday through Friday job, including myself. It’s the end of the work week, the beginning of the ALWAYS too short glory of the weekends and it’s one of the biggest party nights of the week, for everyone but me.
You see, I am one of those people who would have no luck at all, if it weren’t for bad luck. Thankfully, Fuk-You-Friday’s don’t occur every Friday for me, but when they do, it’s so ridiculously painful, one is enough to hold you over for a month or more. Although please know that when my Friday is good, it’s because the rest of the week has been so mind-numbingly bad that even the powers that be feel sorry for me. Sadly, I’ve now been dealt 2 in the last 3 Fridays on the calendar and it’s safe to assume that I am at wits end. “Exasperated,” as my sister so eloquently put it, actually. The first was of course, my ridiculously insane trip home from the ridiculously awesome vacation in Hawaii, visiting my dear friend, Walter. Now, this friday, it continues. I drove home from an insanely long-seeming day at work, in the rain, unable to smoke as my dear mother called me and talked the entire way home and I just simply CANNOT drive, talk on the phone, shift gears, brake, clutch AND smoke a cigarette, all at the same time. I mean, there is a limit to my fantastic multi-tasking abilities.
As if my 40 minute rain-pelted, slippery roaded, mother incessantly yapping (I do love her, really) ride home wasn’t a fun enough end to my day, I was rudely surprised by a foot full of water as I walked into my basement this evening. And OF COURSE my closest light source is a good 10 steps away from the door, in virtual blindness thanks to the horrific misery that is Daylight Saving Time. I sloshed through the water, which I was praying wasn’t touching my pant legs, towards the sink against the far wall, and pulled the light cord only to then be able to visually confirm that which was my first thought when I stepped inside tonight: MY BASEMENT HAD FLOODED. Yipee. Fucking. Doo. I mean, seriously, who wants to come home on a Friday evening to a flooded basement, much less after you’ve already had to cope with quite literally the worst and absolute longest day on record??
Much to my chagrin, I spent the next hour brooming as much water out of my basement as humanly possible, without dunking my head in it in a vain attempt to drown myself. Thankfully, even if I had had the motivation to attempt such a feat, drowning in less than 1 inch of water is probably an impossible task. Yet somehow, it was in the midst of contemplating my own death-by-drowning-in-a-flooded-basement versus the promises of a iced Kahlua and milk upon completion, that I came up with the brilliance of marking this occasion with an occasion all of it’s own…Today shall mark the initial planned-to-be-weekly installments of FUK YOU FRIDAYS! Yay!! Hey, everyone needs a gimmick, and this shall be mine. *smile*
Needless to say, as I approach the end of the waking hours of this particularly impressive fuk-you-friday, I will get my p.j.’s on, smoke a cigarette, mellow out in bed and hope that things turn out a bit better tomorrow. The only bad news is that I’m betting on one phone call to make it, or break it…