Being someone who’s rarely, in the past 20 years, had regular hours, regular schedules or regular anything, the weeks sort of blur. I have a deadline on Monday, Julie has church on Sunday, we have various set duties and doin’s on different days…but the weekends are meaningless except for maybe golf is on TV. So Wednesday has never been “over the hump day” for us, halfway to rest and relaxation. It might, sometimes, be a pretty restful and relaxing day all by itself.
Tomorrow is my 25th wedding anniversary. In my current state of nonprofundity, it’s hard to come up with words — and, of course, like the seven-day week or the 50th birthday, 25 is an artificial construct. We’ve had great anniversaries and pretty boring ones, and they have nothing to do with numbers (although our tenth, now that I think of it, was pretty special; we spent the weekend in Victoria, B.C., kidless, a huge deal back then).
But shoot, why not? This is a happy time for us, and 25 is a nice number, and we should do something.
We will, we are. We’re taking the day, or most of it, staying local but hey: Local can be pretty nice. We’ve got our favorite waterfront room and nothing on the schedule, company for John and a whole bunch of hours together and alone — some walking, shopping, maybe a movie, certainly food. It will be fun, and maybe the weather will play along.
All of this post is padding, by the way, filler material to float around the idea that I thought I should write something about all the activity going on tomorrow, romantic and otherwise, and since it’s on a Wednesday I thought about titling this “Hump Day” and then, I dunno, decided against it.