Thursdays Are Fast

If the days of the week ran a marathon, I think Monday would win.  It always seems to drag on and on, and when it finally does come to an end you wake up seven days later and it’s back for more.  Monday is an endurance champion, no doubt, but if the days of the week had a one hundred meter dash, I’m pretty sure Thursday would take home the gold.  Why, you ask?  Because it’s 11:34 PM in Chicago and it feels like 8:00 at the latest.  Thursday isn’t interested in hanging around, my friends.  He’s not the type to hold a long, leisurely chat over brunch.  He’s got places to go and things to do, and apparently letting me write the post I was planning was not on his list.  Oh, well, I’ve always got Friday.  He and Saturday are the fat, slow guys at the back of the race.  And Sunday is like Eric Liddell, because he refuse to run on Sundays, and since it’s always Sunday for him… well, he’s kind of out of luck.  Not a chance those three are escaping my grasp – unless I get distracted.  It tend to do that sometimes.  So, in short, today went by too quickly, but at least I managed to get milk.  In a tossup between a blog post and milk, milk wins.  Don’t believe me?  You try eating dry Corn Chex for breakfast tomorrow.  Your mouth will not thank you.

Anyway, that’s all of my ramblings for now, but before I go, here’s a question for you: what’s your favorite day of the week?  And if you had to assign it one personality trait, what would that be?


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