Thursdays are always like a Saturday morning to me, and not just because I’m using that 1985 desk calendar (it works in 2008). Thursdays are like Saturdays because Wednesdays are like Fridays. Let me confuse what I mean.
In Church world, Wednesdays start early and run late. Very late. Rehearsal x3 or 4 means that it’s a long string of well, rehearsals. It also means that I’m in the office late enough to be the one to ask “anyone in here?” before setting the alarm. By the time I get home, it’s 11:30 and Nick at Nite is rounding the bend on the Family Matters marathon that I watch while eating reheated porkchops. Nothing wrong with reheated porkchops, mind you, as long as they’re covered in Sweet Baby Ray’s barbecue sauce.
I crawl into bed around 1am, tossing and turning because the Sauce is the Boss (of my digestive system) and I’m all wound up from the day’s activities. 40 pages and 1 episode later, I’m finally asleep, only to wake up after what feels like only 20 minutes has passed, ready to hit the floor again. It’s not that I’m mad at the floor, I just like the sound it makes.
Here we are. It’s Thursday-slash-Saturday morning and I’m ready to put on man sized full-pajamas and eat some Cinnamon Toast Crunch while I watch Saved By the Bell, the Reckless Years, or whatever spin off they’re up to in the SBTB franchise.
1. The author used the term “franchise”. If you could franchise something, what would it be? Hats?
2. If Thursday is the new Saturday, what does that make the current Saturday?
3. Would the author be taunted if he wore his man-sized pajamas to, say, Wal-Mart? What if it was between 2 and 3 AM? Discuss.