Saturday and Sunday

I love the way the weekends come around
regularly
to remind me that I am a
passtime, a diversion
from the real stuff.

Don't get too full of yourself,
Missy. Do not mistake yourself for something
that matters.

That's what the weekends are for.

I think of a small dog on a rope tied to a stake in the front yard, running headlong to greet his master at the end of a long day. The master gets out of his car and calls to the dog as he walks up the front porch and just as he opens the door, the dog runs out of rope, his whole body continues in motion except his head which completely stops, forcing his body to fling through the air past his neck. Just as the dog falls to the ground, he hears the front door close.