Am I the only one who has expectations for the nights of the week? No, not “Thursday is meatloaf,” although that actually would classify. “If it’s Tuesday, this must be Belgium.” (That’s an old movie, for those of you under 40.)(Not that I’ve seen it, but at least I remember it.)
I dread Sunday nights. At one point in my life, I spent Sunday evenings with a guy I was dating. We watched Celebrity Apprentice, ate take-out Chinese food, and drank ice-cold beers. I loved that routine, which is surprising considering I’m not a television watcher, unless it’s sports. But that was – nice. It was normal. It was fun to spend the time with him. It was something I looked forward to. We discussed the stars on the show, tried to guess who was going to be fired, and marveled when we were wrong. And then suddenly, it ended. And now, my Sunday nights are empty. I see that Celebrity Apprentice has returned, but I won’t be watching it. I try to find something to fill my Sunday nights, but usually end up at home alone, wishing I was sitting on his couch again.
Another guy took me out on Fridays after work. I lived across the street from his favorite Mexican restaurant, so we’d hang out for a couple of hours with our friends, sipping margaritas and rehashing the week’s adventures. It was the closest thing to a tiki bar I found in Phoenix, and it was a blast. Now, I pour wine at my friends’ wine store on Fridays, which is fun, but it’s over by 7:30pm. Then, I have an evening to fill – an evening where I feel everyone else is out on a date, and I’m not. Luckily, my girlfriend Ginny is often off on Friday nights, so we go out for a beer and a bite to eat, maybe catch some live music. The rest of the world probably doesn’t think Friday is Date Night, but to me, it is.
A group of my friends in Idaho meets every Wednesday at 5pm at a particular bar. They’ve met at that time since 1993. Some nights there are 3 people, sometimes there are 20. They call it “going to church.” I always knew that there would be someone there to share a beer and a story with. Although I haven’t lived in Idaho for years, I often glance at my watch at 5pm on Wednesday, and wonder who’s showing up tonight. And miss my friends.
Luckily, the rest of the week, I don’t expect anything except eating, working, and walking on the beach. Maybe a little laundry and shopping thrown in. A shower or two. There are no emotional landmines in the rest of the calendar. Which is probably a good thing. I don’t want to wish my life away, but I’d be fine if the clock just jumped from 5pm on Sunday to 5am on Monday.
Do you have calendar expectations? What does your family do that’s special on Thursday nights? Am I the only one who labels specific nights, and is disappointed when they turn out otherwise?
Maybe I should start making meatloaf on Sundays.