I love Friday. I get to sit and think of the endless possibilities for the weekend. I could go to the ocean, or the mountains. I could go to Vermont to buy chedder cheese. I could go to Boston on the train, or visit the Worcester Ecotarium and pay $2 to ride the little steam engine around the grounds.
By Saturday morning, the endless possiblities aren’t endless anymore, because for some activities you have to have left home already. And maybe you notice that the grass is getting long and it isn’t going to cut itself. Oh, and you’re out of milk and bread. You know. Real life stuff. But on Friday, anything is possible.