Oh yeah, baby. It‘s Friday, y’all. But does the coming of Friday really mean all that much? As I get older, the arrival of Friday seems to bring less and less satisfaction. It’s true that I can go out and party until 6 am without much work-related consequence (like, I won’t get fired), but with age comes brutal hangovers, extra dehydration, and the dreaded brain fog that makes even simply existing a trial all its own. Moaning and groaning my way through Saturday and Sunday sounds like hell – and the way I used to deal with it (doing it again as some sort of evil hair of the dog) just sounds completely awful. 

Being healthy (ie; avoiding partying) means the weekend is just dedicated to boring chores and chill hangs with other friends who also have lost the party bug. It all feels so underwhelming. If I’m being optimistic, I’ll tell myself that I’ll get my eight hours of sleep and will be able to exercise, which they SAY is good for mental health. But if I’m being realistic? I’m subbing binge-scrolling for binge drinking. And if that sounds like a good substitution to you too, scroll on.