Tomorrow. Tomorrow. There’s always tomorrow…
I used to love Fridays. The start of the weekend. Plans. I’d sit around with Michele, one of my best friends, and whoever showed.
We’d be at her house or meet up at the Farside Pub. See who was there. What the drink special was. Eat hot wings. Sit outside and soak up the sun in the summer. Then head down the street to Michele’s. Some of the girls would always show up Friday nights. Around 5 or so after work. We’d all go there and smoke pot and drink beer and yak and yak. It was hockey night for the guys. League night. They’d all be off somewhere skating and living the Glory Days.
We’d be talking and eating and laughing and crying and commiserating and gossiping about work and who was up to what. That was Fridays.
Then home to get dressed and go out. Stay up late late late. You never even went anywhere until 11 or so. Everyone was still at home or visiting. Making plans.
Go to the bar. Go karaoke. See what my sister and Shawn were up to. Go see Jesse or someone. Go to the Columbia Inn, if there was nothing else to do. Go to a bonfire. That was my favorite. Drive the Dodge into the bush, as they call the Rocky Mtns in those small towns. See if there was a bonfire by the Kootenay River, all the big trucks parked down there, radios on. Beers in coolers. A bottle of something. Rocky dirt roads, headlights. Sitting on the tailgates. Flirting with someone, but never too seriously. Just because I was single.
Fridays were great.
Now Fridays are chemotherapy.
Still…there will be more Fridays. The fun Fridays. The kind of Friday where it’s like a Louis Armstrong doing Cabaret kind of Friday. The bonfire Fridays and the beers and sitting with your best bud. Those are the ‘real’ Fridays.
So Rule #9 is have some fun. Because when you are sitting where I am, right now, you need those fun times to get you through the shitty times. They may seem stupid, frivolous, a waste of time, money down the drain, a downright dangerous mess at the time but I’m here to tell you, never fear! They are all those things and that’s GREAT! So until you have your own story about the drunk guy (no names) who sat on the porcupine, seriously, then you aren’t doing it right.
Until then, I raise my imaginary beer to all of you out there. Have one for me tomorrow.