"5 days of work, 1 whole day of play, Come on everybody, Wear your rollerskates today" De La Soul- "A Rollerskating Jam Called Saturday"
It is impossible to call it from the pillow. The curtains are drawn, and the light here is always so milky that it could go either way. Been feeling ready for Saturday since Thursday, when it was dry as you got home. All things being equal twenty minutes from now you can expect to take the first orbit- breaking push; no shower and in yesterday's T- shirt which hugs greasily now. It is set be a day of adventure and escape, ended with a violin wrist, a weeping shin but happy feet- and you can bear the minutia of life again. Maybe you'll go and take a look at the place with inviting angles we noticed as we're out there operating in society as regular joe's, when we turn our light down to make the everyday people comfortable but still doing our private reconnaissance.
"What are you looking at?"
"Mmm...nothing. Lets go." you say, but Be having that on Saturday, you think.
No shower and in yesterday's T- shirt which hugs greasily now.
Breakfast will be purely functional. The bolts need tightening, but that is going to take time too. So we will just deafen ourselves with that irritating high rattle all day before discovering the whole thing hanging by a thread on the way home.
And then the sound from the road as a car passes. A crisp, defined reeeoww is good right now. But- doubting the first one, you lie in total silence- theres the telltale sloshing, slabbery gargle of a passing car and you know it is soaking out, that the rapture of rolling is over and you will have to spend the day Being Normal.
Pisser when that happens- am I right?