In this week’s episode, the role of Kay is played by Stanley the purple stegosaurus. The role of life in general is played by Sherman, the blue speckled pup.
That’s right friends: this week has gnawed my face off. I am chewed up and spit out like yesterday’s Juicy Fruit. I am like the dog turd that has been exposed to the elements for too long, and has started crumbling into the grass, never to be retrieved. Apparently, I’m also wearing the new Calvin Klein eau de toilet: Melodrama.
Thankfully, here we are at Friday night. It’s not that anything terrible has happened this week. I’m healthy. I’ve managed to stay out of overdraft, despite sudden necessary car repairs. I have (by a true miracle) very little marking to tackle this weekend. Things are quite good all around.
The problem is that I’ve been going all week like a bat out of hell little old lady into a bingo hall. Granted, I’m a perky gal, with extra perky hair, so I’m not writing this as a geriatric rant. Getting up early and working late all week has taken a toll, though, and I’m basically a heap of useless right now.
What does a grown-up person do on a Friday night, when her sweetie is out with his friends, and it’s looking like a quiet night at home. I made a list of potential evening activities:
1. run a hot bubble bath and lounge in the tub with a novel
2. drive to Wal-Mart to buy Halloween candy before the cheap good stuff is all gone
3. wash up the dishes and tidy the kitchen
4. clip Leroy’s toenails
5. play Donkey Kong Country
6. vacuum up the mammal hair tumbleweeds
7. patch up my sad excuse for a pedicure
8. scrape the goop out of the softener dispenser in the washer
Based on my overall fatigue and crippling apathy tonight, I suspect my evening will consist of a hearty portion of number 5, served with a side dish of number 1. If I get really ambitious, I might even try some 7 for dessert.
Hey, I just remembered the butter tarts hiding in my freezer. Happy Friday, everybody!
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Blue Speckled Pup 
I so want a night of #1. We moved into a house with no tub in the master bath, and now I obsess about taking great bubble baths with a glass of wine and a book. Guess I’ll just have to live vicariously through the blogs!
In my house, the “master” bath is also the only available bathroom since the basement suite is rented out, but I only had a tub and not a shower for the first 8 months I lived here, so I suppose it evens out.
I’d say I’ll think of you later when I’m soaking, but that might be like bathing together. As much as I adore you, that might be a little awkward.
Probably so. Of course, now that you are set on not thinking about me you probably will. Just think of Wonderbutt instead.
I have a feeling Wonderbutt would turn it into a jacuzzi, but I’m not that fond of bubbling water.
Oh lord Kay, your Friday night apathy sounds as blah as my life is when I’m not traveling. Ennuie 101.