For once it won't bite me in the butt

I was about to make a simple, one-sentence post.

Why does no one post on Fridays?

Then I realized it's technically not Friday. Functionally it's Friday for me, since we have tomorrow off work, but really, knowing that should make it more obvious to me that it's not Friday, as I've been thinking about the long weekend all week. Longingly, even.

Why can't I keep my days straight?

And why does no one post much of anything at the end of the week? What, y'all have lives and weekends and such? ;)

Perfection is transitory and fleeting

Today, lunchtime found me sitting out in the courtyard, crocheting and enjoying a beautiful day. The sun was shining and warm, but a cool breeze and the shade from a nearby tree kept it from being overly hot. Birds were chirping. The sound of the water cascading down the fountain was soothing. Everything was coalescing into utter perfection. I could have stayed there forever... or, at least, until the end of the work-day. Or until it began to rain (they are predicting more showers). Or until I finished the potholder and got bored. But for that moment it was wonderful.

Slowly, though, the imperfections began to creep in. The concrete bench was actually quite chilly. And hard. My hindquarters began to hurt. The odd angle of my back began to take its toll on my hip, which ached. Bugs were everywhere; a spider crawled out on my hand (I gently blew him away, he was pretty tiny). The sun was actually kind of hot where it peaked through the leaves and beat down on my head. And I just know those birds were eyeing me as target practice.