The Days Off

It's you're day off. The second of two.

You're in the sunny attic drinking your breakfast: coffee and an EAS chocolate-fudge protein shake. (For a moment you thought you meant boozing before noon, didn't you? LOL You aren't that pathetic. Not yet, anyway.)

You're watching the Battlestar Galactica marathon on the SciFi Network, which has become your new obsession. You don't want it to be an obsession, but your DVR only holds so much, so the past couple days have been all watch and delete and watch and delete and watch and delete and watch and delete and...the DVR just keeps churning, and you need room for a three-hour hockey game later tonight.

At the moment, your days off come in the middle of the week. Wednesday and Thursday. This gives your life a weird little quirk.

You'll state the obvious: The world seems built around the idea that everyone has Saturday and Sunday off, and people who actually have Saturday and Sunday off seem to think that everyone else has Saturday and Sunday off.

You live a few blocks from Lake and Lyndale, which is also close to Uptown, and just east of Lake Calhoun. This is a popular area, and one thing you hate about the weekends is that every douchebag in a beemer or Audi drives their silly ass out of the suburbs and into your neighborhood to have a good time. They love to drive around the lake for no reason, and they love to visit all the kitchy little stores and restaurants in your neighborhood.