Shouldn’t It Be The Weekend By Now?

Dearest Rachel –

You know, apart from putting sufficient time in at the ‘office’ (and it’s not as if I haven’t done any ‘work’ there these last few days), it rather feels like it’s been a suitably full and eventful week already. I’ve gotten in all the exercise I ever do these days in the course of a typical week; twice at the gym (well, one visit was cut short, but that was hardly my fault, and regardless, I did manage to work up a thorough sweat even in that short period of time) and a walk through the woods with Lars yesterday. I’ve been out on the town for both of the past couple of nights, last night with the gang, in celebration of Daniel’s birthday, and the night before, on my first date in a depressingly long time.

So I think you might be able to forgive me when, as the sun washed through the bedroom windows, compelling me to wake up at what might be an absurdly early hour at another point in the year (but following the longest day in the entire calendar, seems just like any other day), I found myself wondering… shouldn’t it be the weekend by now?

This is especially true of the fact that the gang has, for quite some time, only been able to get together on Friday nights (and even then, only about every other Friday night, at best). I appreciate the girls’ willingness to continue to maintain the friendships with me and Daniel since your departure – even going so far as to accept Daniel’s friend (and our roomer) Logan as a part of the group – but I understand that you were their real connection to the two of us; to pretend otherwise is to engage in at least a little bit of self-delusion (which I know all too well, as I’ve indulged in it often enough during these past nine hundred or so days as to recognize it in myself). As a consequence of that – and the fact that I don’t have the same vocational commitments they do – I’m bound to their schedules in a way that isn’t mutual.

I can’t expect them to be available (or even necessarily willing) to come over and hang out on a regular basis like things used to be when, for instance, Ellen would stop by every Monday evening for dinner and a screening of that night’s episode of Northern Exposure. Indeed, the last couple of get-togethers have been operating under the new rules of dating, wherein both – or rather, in this case, all – parties involved just meet at, and depart from, the restaurant, rather than hanging out at one or another person’s (read, ‘our’) place. Much as I’d like to share A Place Farther than the Universe with them, the fact is that this arrangement is what works out the best for everyone concerned these days, and it isn’t likely to change any time soon. It’s how life is these days, and I’ve kind of gotten used to it, even as I admit it’s not entirely ideal.

But I may be so used to it that, after a night like last night, it feels like it ought to be Saturday already – regardless of my limited ‘office’ time thus far this week.

And in fact, I could probably use an extra Saturday, as there are enough putzy little jobs I could stand to do around the house today, if I think about it. If nothing else, there’s the fact that all that exercise (especially in this growing summer heat) has left me with plenty of laundry to deal with, particularly whites. I’ve even added to that load by getting Daniel a packet of both underwear and socks as his birthday present, in lieu of any reasonable ideas from him as to what he might really want. I wonder if your folks would be proud, amused or annoyed that I’ve stolen their schtick when it comes to gift-giving.

On the other hand, it’s not as if I couldn’t just do that in an extended evening, while the boys are in the family room watching anime, and I’m hanging out in the bedroom (right next to the laundry room, after all) where you and I used to spend such evenings when Logan would come over. It’s not something that’s going to take all day or anything.

And it’s probably just as well, because this upcoming weekend isn’t the sort that’s going to be the typical relaxing, puttering-about-the-house sort of one in any event. I’ve got a wedding to go to for a member of the extended family, which requires me to try to figure out what exactly ‘cocktail attire’ is (as per the instructions on the invitation). My guess is that it means I need to ensure I can still tie a Windsor knot, and that at least one of my sport jackets still fits me and coordinates with a pair of slacks in my closet. For better or for worse, I’ll not have to dance, though, and since I’m car pooling with the folks, it won’t necessarily be a late night – which, since I’ve been asked to fill in this weekend in the booth at not quite the last minute, is probably a good thing. The point is, as much as this morning feels like it ought to be a Saturday, I can’t say that I am – or should be – eager for the weekend to be upon me just yet.

And with that being said, I guess I’d better get up and get on with my ‘work’ day. Keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck; I’m going to need it.