The bitter disappointment of a non-Saturday morning

This morning I heard the alarm, promptly rolled over, turned it off, and rolled back into my loving husband's arms.

Ahhhh....wedded bliss. How good it feels to have my husband home to sleep in with me on this beautiful Saturday morning. Birds chirping, sun shining, what more could I ask for?

I drifted slowly back into sleep. 1.5 hours later I rolled over to hug the aforementioned loving husband - who was gone. Before I could figure out why any reasonable rational decent human being would get out of a bed so comfy, in a place so perfect, he came in and told me it was time to wake up.

"wakey wakey!" he shouted

"why?" I groaned

"It's time to get up!" His voice is entirely too loud for my sensitive morning ears. I buried my head in the pillow.

"It's Saturday" I moaned

"nuh uh. you have to get up now" his voice was too cheerful to be serious. I didn't believe him.

"no I don't, I don't wanna and I don't have to." sensing a debate and chance to prove that I know everything, I started to perk up.

"Yes you do. It's Friday, last night we went to graduation and out to dinner with my family because it was Thursday. Now it's Friday and we have to go to work 1 more time this week." Ugh, the bitter agony of defeat!

I woke up, showered, and ran out the door to face yet another non-Saturday-non-holiday-normal-boring-working-day-of-stress-and-loneliness.

Do old people get to have Saturdays every day? That's all I want from life. A string of 21,120 more Saturdays with no other days of the week. I know you're thinking "Saturdays wouldn't be much better if that's all you ever had. You have to have good in order to truly appreciate bad. There must needs be opposition in all things!" Well, I disagree. I want Saturdays every day for the rest of my life.