Today is Thursday. Not Friday. Not at all.

But for five glorious minutes when I first woke up, I thought it was Friday.

I came to the realization as I was washing my hands after running to the bathroom because wetting my pants at 5:30 a.m. is not on my to-do list. It was a DEFCON-1 situation (I say this because I have looked at the Wikipedia article, and I know for sure that DEFCON goes from most danger to least danger in ascending order, so 1 is totally the worst), but I was smiling, which is unusual for me because it makes my face hurt and I feel like it's a sign of insanity if I smile too much.

Got to keep that on the down-low.

Anyway, I made it and I was washing my hands while singing, "Twinkle, Twinkle" at a rate of 60 bpm (which everyone knows adds up to the right amount of time in which to remove the most bathroomy poop germs from one's hands--they're in the bathroom, whether you're in there pooping or not) , and I looked at the wreck that is my hair this morning and all of a sudden I just knew.

I wanted to throw my head back and howl, but I thought that might be a little over-dramatic, so I went to the kitchen and poured myself an extra half cup of Chocolate Cheerios (they're good, but not, "Let's buy the giant-size double-pack at Costco!" good).

Same thing, man. 

At any rate, I am now in a state of post-Friday sadness, because even though it was never really Friday, for five brief, shining minutes, it felt like Friday in my heart. My heart lied.

My heart did not deserve the extra Cheerios, but I can't exactly separate it from the rest of my body, which totally did deserve those extra Cheerios.

It's going to be a stellar day. I can just feel it in my guts.