On Friday


On Friday, it’s not considered take out if it’s the salad bar from Whole Foods.

On Friday, we eat our cheater take out dinner on the sidewalk.

On Friday, she plays with a snail for an hour after dinner. She named him Snaily.

On Friday, bedtime is pushed back. Screen time was allowed, but the snail was more exciting, so we forgot about it.

On Friday, we’ll watch a show tonight when Roozle falls asleep. Just us. With popcorn. And tea. We’ll make plans for the weekend. I’ll probably talk too much about religion, music, and writing. Because I can’t help it.

On Friday, everything slows down a bit. I like that. I need that. Let’s do that.

Good job, Friday.

Author: Casey

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