It’s Friday. I hate Fridays.
Some Fridays I have nothing to do, so I sleep through lunch and gag down cheap booze at the diner all evening.
Today, I have a job. It’s a freebie. I hate myself.
She’s a brunette. Thinks her husband’s lying to her. She’s probably right.
It’s Thursday. I hate Thursdays.
Thursdays are when the dames come, sobbing, pleading, and looking for a pro-bono Private Eye.
On Thursdays, I say “know” more often than a philosophy student who just learned about epistemology, but without the “k” and the “w”.
Today, I surprise myself. I say yes.