Saturdays Shmaturdays

Saturdays Shmaturdays

I’m on lots of cold medicine right now and cannot focus on anything for more than a minute. My apologies in advance if this post is a little incoherent. Yay drugs!

Now time to say what I came here to say: I hate Saturdays. You probably do too, you just don’t know it. Saturdays are a test; you are given one big ol’ free day to do with it what you like and you therefore get to make only one of two choices:

  • be an adult and do something productive, or
  • don’t do something productive because you know that no one is there to enforce the consequences.

My battle with my self conscience on an entire Saturday is the same as the one I go through each morning:

“Lizy, get up.”
“You need to get shit done.”
“But sleeping is great!”
“You’ll have money and a career and lots of attractive sexual partners if you get your shit done.”
“Want to fall asleep to bad romantic comedies with me?”

Every. Single. Time.

In non-Saturday news: lots of love and thanks to Pat and Dave C., who have struck yet again: waiting in my school mailbox for me on Friday was a care package full of delicious Starbucks treats!

My homie Shanice modeling my Starbucks- themed carepackage


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