What day is it?

Time, what an oddball concept.

The idea of seven (why seven?) days a week. A five day working week, two days off.

Continually wondering where the weeks and months go [it’s almost a mere half year until next decade… wha‘? How did that happen?] but praying Tuesday afternoon would just hurry up ta fuck!

It’s a quarter past.

And wishing Monday was Sunday, feeling like Tuesday is limbo, thinking Wednesday is Tuesday or Thursday, but hardly ever Wednesday – except a brief window at lunchtime, upon the realisation that it is exactly mid-working-week. And Thursday could feel like a Thursday. Sometimes a Friday. Tuesday? [Stop naming days of the week in there!]

Knowing on Friday afternoon that it’s already Monday morning. You’re already lying in bed whacking an alarm clock on Friday evening clock-out time… you’re already there groaning and bemoaning about how it’s not Friday evening.

Is it Friday? Is it Friday yet?

The Facebook Rule

The facebook rule is a double-edged sword, exquisite in its simplicity.
It’s ever so simple and solves (or resolves) two issues in one.

Facebook sluts need not apply.

I did try to stay under the hundred quota and recently failed, but regardless, there are now at least a hundred people in the world who I know by name and would say hello to on the street.

For that is the single criterium.
Friend request comes in from Jimmy. One straight up question: Would I say hello to Jimmy on the street/would I be happy enough to pass by unseen or would I run and hide in a granny’s wheelie bag rather than be seen?

For those aquaintances who are in the grey area it resolves the issue entirely. Accept them and now you are obliged, minus awkwardness (and thankfully sidestepping the whole “so what’ve you been up to?” bullshit chit-chat thanks to status updates, facebook photo albums and general cyber-stalking) to greet them in public.