Almost Gone

Oh Saturday,we had such plans, you and I.  

We were going to get up early, go for a long walk, then straighten up the house and have a luxurious bath using some of the gorgeous products I got as gifts.  Then, you promised we would go into town to spend some of my birthday money.  You even said that, if we got all that done early enough, we would go and visit one of our two friends who are still in hospital. 

Hah!  I should never have listened to your sweet-talking and false promises.  You let me sleep far too late, just because G did not roll home
from his night out until 4am and insisted on singing to me on his arrival. I wasn't tired, I could have got up earlier than 10.30am.  It was you who whispered dreams in my ear, and kept me sleeping until the call of nature could no longer be ignored.

Then, when I was desperate to get dressed and out with the dog, you persuaded him to do the needful in the garden so reducing the imperative to walk him. " Therefore", you whispered, "might as well have some breakfast - make a pot of coffee - get some toast and honey, make it leisurely". 

Naughty Saturday, you put my laptop on the table beside me, and made me think I should start looking at holidays for September this year.  Then, that I should do some more browsing on Blipfoto.  Then that I should have a look at some of the online sales to see if I could see orange curtains and a new nest of tables. 

Saturday!  What happened to our plans?  All gang aglae, and nothing done.  Eventually I threw your slothful influence off, and sorted a bit of laundry before throwing some warm clothes on top of my jammies (Hey, come on Blippers - don't judge until you've tried it!) and heading out with the dog and the camera. 

Yeah, you nearly made me miss the beautiful slow sunset and the simultaneous moonrise Saturday, but I defied your sultry inducements just enough to get a few pictures before the battery in my camera died.  No doubt THAT was down to you too. 

As Rocky and I tramped through the wee wood at the end of the Highland Road, beside the crossroads, I watched as the sun slowly got into bed and put the lights out. 

So, Saturday, you are almost gone.  And with you, your friend Christmas.  Tomorrow it is Sunday's turn, and I know she will not stand for any of your nonsense.  She'll have me out of bed asap, and taking down those decorations and getting the work clothes ironed, and all that jazz. 

You've been like a bad boyfriend Saturday; I knew you were no good, but secretly I wanted to be naughty too, so I let you lead me astray.  But no excuses now; tomorrow is another day, and another week, and the beginning proper of another year. 

I love you Saturday, but it is time for you to go.