It took me seven seconds to find the “Add New Post” button. Seven seconds! That’s the amount of time it takes to craft a decent tweet.
(This is a lie, of course. What a blessed moment it is when a decent tweet takes only seven seconds.)
Oh, gosh. Two paragraphs in, and I’m already qualifying every word I say. I should have started with “Hello! My name is Hilly, in case you forgot, and I write the saddest Friday night texts.”
I’ve never been a big Friday person. I’ve never been a party person. Even low-key activities aren’t my jam. I mean, they are, but they should be saved for a night when you aren’t walking like a torso connected to two partially-drained Gusher tubes. (That was my attempt at saying “tired” without actually saying it. How’d I do?)
At home, on a Friday night, even though I don’t want to be (and sometimes decline to be) other places, can get a little lonely. It’s not that I feel lonely, but somehow the most Josie Geller of texts are sent from my phone. You’d think I was finishing my fifteenth needlepoint pillow. (Actually, I’m crocheting and organizing my closet, thank you very much.)
Fine! Fine! I’ll show you the evidence. Quiet down, already.
These are five kinds of texts you might get from me on a Friday night:
2. Slob clothing purchases:
Lots of “also” going on here.
3. Million dollar ideas:
4. Kirk Cameron news (a subcategory of “Netflix updates”):
5. Options for the night’s activities: