this weekend was legendary. friday’s work was hard and annoying- mice turds, scummy tubs and christmas tree removal. fears of last weekend’s blowout still ringing through my brain. not one to be dissolved into misery, not anymore at least, i pasted a waxy smile to my face and reminded myself how short life is, and cautiously stepped into Friday Night.
when your partner of ten years takes mood altering medication, you never know what face you will see at the end of the day. one weekend smiles. next weekend you are homeless. one weekend is hot and heavy, sex, sex, sex. the next weekend you are face down on the floor, sobbing. with the uncertainty of days of wine and song, or nights of hyperventilating sobs, weekends can be a scary place, and have lost most of the glittery dancing, cocktail clubbing, Thank God It’s Friday-ing times i used to live for. so it was with supreme eggshell-walking i planned on not planning out how my weekend would go and with trepidation i watched the clock. i crafted. i cleaned. i failed at crochet again. i wrote. i read. i texted. i went to the gym. i ate. i filled time. i was. i sat. i thought. i worried. i chewed my nails. i picked my cuticles. i texted. i snacked. i ate mindlessly. i worried some more. i panicked. i flipped out. i cancelled plans with friends. i texted. i pretended. i faked that nothing was wrong. i stared out the window until 2 AM when i saw his car pull up. i froze.
clumpy snowy steel toed boots walked in. boots came off. wooly-socked little feet. a “hey baby, how are you?” and a kiss. i smiled, cautiously. the weekend had officially begun.