Christmas in July

Friday is my favorite day of the week. More than Saturday, even. It's the sweet, sweet anticipation of the break to come that drives me wild, more so than the break itself.

On most levels, I knew that Friday was a holiday, July 3, the federal observation of Independence Day, but for the most part, I forgot. Work was busy. Life was busy. When Wednesday came, I just thought of it as Wednesday.

Thursday morning, though, as I considered hitting snooze on the alarm, I remembered: Holiday.

"I don't have to work tomorrow," I thought. "I don't have to work!"

It was like Christmas in July without the trampling of temporary Walmart employees, without shopping at all or familial obligations. I awoke and realized I would have a whole day to myself. No work. No plans. No anything.

With Thursday as the new Friday, I leapt from bed and turned off one alarm, turned off the second alarm, and started to work, far earlier than I would have arisen on a normal workday. I would again. And again. And again over the weekend. Because that's what happened whenever I could sleep in; I'd end up so excited I couldn't sleep at all.

Tag: Holiday