I’m not sure why I look so forward to Friday nights. Maybe more for the Saturday sleeping in and not going to work. But Friday nights are severely lacking.
I think I hate Friday nights as much as I do because it’s the one night a week I am almost guaranteed to believe the lie that I don’t have much to offer that’s valued by others. And so my isolation, partially my fault for not taking action against it, is amplified by the reverberations in an empty house. If only working ahead or applying for jobs or doing chores gave so much satisfaction as an hour spent with someone else.
Or perhaps I’m emotional tonight. Next week I have plans on Friday night, so it might be better.