I find it inherently ironic that on the one Friday night that there isn’t bass thumping,
the one Friday night when the Newfies have gone to bed early and aren’t watching Seinfeld reruns,
the one Friday night since I’ve been here that I’m not feeling insanely lonely,
I’m wide awake. Instead of sleeping, I’m thinking about every think I can possibly not want to think at 12:42am, because it will only make me want to think more.
How much I hate not having a weekly paycheck, because I am a Student again. The pile of homework that is steadily mounting. My wedding is over a year away. Oh crap, the wedding’s only 14 months away. The fact that I am living with three crazy Newfies who have giggly drinking parties at 3 in the morning.
Am I relishing in the silence of Friday Night? A little. Do I wish I could sleep? Yes. Why? Because on Saturday mornings, the Worker Bees hibernate. I don’t wake up to the sweet sounds of machinery at 6am, nor do I wake up to the delightful pounding rhythm of hammer on nail a half hour later. Saturday mornings have no sound. I wake up whenever the sun manages to creep in around the blackout curtains, and then I lay in bed arguing with myself about the pros and cons of physically making the motion to swing my legs over the side of the bed and shuffle over to the window.
So, Friday Night, what’s it gonna be? Insomnia? Or will you let me power down my brain for a while?
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