This Isn't Really Monday

I worked for a couple of hours on Saturday and I'm beginning to see the error of my ways in doing this.

Although I love the quiet (which may be a different story now that Bones has usurped the cubicle next to mine and dared to come in this past Saturday - he uses a speakerphone! Gack! On a Saturday! Double gack!), ahem, even though I love the quiet and feel like I get a lot done, I always end up feeling like the next day is Saturday. Therefore, today should be Sunday.

I wouldn't mind working a six-on, two-off schedule, but I know what won't happen.

And am a bit sad this morning, because I have recently found myself in a situation akin to a conversation I once had with Emma. When I lived in Florida, Emma came to visit me a couple of times. The last time she came to see me was just before I moved back to Jersey. It was a beautiful October day, in the high 70s, and the pool was looking gorgeous. As a Floridian, it was too cold for me to swim, but Emma was in there like a happy dolphin. When she finally emerged from the water, she sat down in the chair next to mine. I was covered up like a Bedouin, knowing what that much time in the sun would do to me. I looked over at her and I said, "You probably won't be visiting me in Jersey, will you?"

She lit a cigarette, looked from the blue sky to the blue water, squinting. "I doubt it," she said.

So that's kind of where I find myself today. Plus I am late for work. Plus it's going to rain. But I'll go in to work and I do have happier news for my next post.