Quote of the Day:
“Expecting is the greatest impediment to living. In anticipation of tomorrow, it loses today.” –Seneca
TB woke up this morning to a reminder that I was in charge of swim lessons tonight. Swim lessons are always on Thursday. The reason was my wife was scheduled to go to an out of town hearing. On Thursday. And I had a whole “to do” list written out and left in my car titled, “Thursday.” So naturally, I cranked up the car and decided that since it was Friday I’d bail on the office, pick up cinnamon twists from the bakery and go kill a couple of hours in the bookstore before heading home for what passes for work on slow Fridays and a healthy dose of internet time in between emails. Anticipating my day, I was feeling rather spry.
As you have no doubt by now deduced, I eventually realized the miscalculation and readjusted my schedule to conform with the “Thursday” list on my dash. But the whole incident got me cogitatin on the beauty of Fridays. For TB, Fridays are best. It’s because I’m an Anticipator.
On matters of dread, I always suffer most in the lead up. I can remember in elementary school the days when a poem was to be recited in front of class. Always with the alphabetical order! Being a “W”, I had to suffer the whole hour waiting my turn to get the terror over and done with. What’s worse, sometimes the process went slow and was held over for a second day to get to those of us at the end of the line. By the time I was standing and speaking I was fine. I always went through the same process with tests, ball games, and doctor visits. Oh, how I loathe the waiting rooms in medical buildings.
Conversely, I find in life that looking forward to great events or occasions is almost as fun as experiencing the moment itself. For instance, I love the weeks before Christmas and of course I love Christmas Day. But once the gift opening has begun it always seems to go by too fast, and I’m aware it’s doing so even as I revel in the moment, and this twinge of sadness at the passing of the big day appears in consciousness where on Christmas Eve there was nothing. I look forward to vacations and I love even the drive or the flight that begins a vacation, and of course I enjoy nothing more than the travellin itself; but again, once the destination is achieved, the knowledge that time in paradise is fleeting hangs over the week like a fourth grade teacher watching from a distance the kids at recess and waiting to announce a poetry recital at the ringing of the bell. Once the anticipation of the fun is realized, the anticipation of its inevitable conclusion begins.
This is why I love Fridays. Because on Friday the weekend portends greatness. There is no need to retire on Friday night until you are ready, for there is no reason to rise early on Saturday. And a whole Saturday is set aside for the benefit of only yourself and your gang, maybe even a road trip, sometimes spontaneous and sometimes planned. I love Friday most because of what comes next. I am the Anticipator. And I hate Sundays.