One Forgotten Friday in August

What is it about skies that inspire me so?  More than anything in the world, a cloud rolling across the sky will put my fingers to the keyboard. 
This Friday late in August, I see the skies that should be shining with the fury of a fire fueled with gasoline clouding over with the gray, cold clouds of fall and winter.  Glancing out the window, I imagined the shiver I would feel as I emerged from this building, then realize that it is summer – not Fall or Winter. 
A thrill rushes through me, though, at the thought of that sensation.  I imagine myself shivering and going home to that warm feeling that only home can give.  The physical, but more so, the emotional. 
The trees bend and I guess that there will be rain.  Rain that could interfere with the grilled burgers that I am anticipating for dinner.  Burgers and green beans cooked to softness in the crock pot accompanied by a glass or two of wine. Just right for a Friday night celebration of the end to the work week.
It has been an entirely too long week with so little to do that as I sit at my desk, I feel my every nerve ending in my legs.  Today I have been held prisoner by someone who just had to talk about himself.  I could not make an excuse to leave, because it is my job to sit here in this space and wait to be needed, while he, obviously in need, told stories of his success, his wonderful epiphanies, and his popularity.  I felt the tension pulling on my arms and legs and my stomach was starting to turn.  I took off my glasses to rub my eyes, and then I think just maybe he got it and decided to leave. 
The air conditioning blows gently on my arms like a mother cooling her child’s boo-boo.  Thank you, I think to myself. 
TGIF.  In 50 minutes I will go home.  I will watch a movie and sleep in.  My time will be my own.  Ah, the freedom of Saturday! 
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