That Friday feeling

It's not Friday yet. I know this because at the current rate time is passing for me I expect Friday to finally arrive sometime in the latter half of the next century. Or possibly early the next. It's rather like the interminable wait on Christmas Eve during which time slows to an absolute crawl to allow Santa Claus to deliver his bundle of presents (admit it, you always suspected a similar explanation), except in this case the feeling of anticipation is supplemented by a not inconsiderable dollop of dread. And there are fewer presents.

Ah, anticipation and dread, the twin axles upon which my world slowly revolves, until I near the edge, at which point it invariably picks up speed in an attempt to spin me off into the void.

It's going to be another long week.