Some people love Fridays.
I used to love Fridays. Lazy weekends with Rich and the AC, fish and chips for tea, and gentleness.
Then I went off them a bit. AC started sleeping over at his fathers on a Friday night. But Rich and I would have good nights in.
Then I hated them. Every Friday was another week without Rich here. Every one was another weekend that I was alone when he should have been here.
These days, actually, I could almost like them again. The current swimming set up means that we do art for 2 hours in the middle of the day, with plenty of music, we do library, and Show and Tell, and all the nice things that teachers get to do.
They start a weekend that goes one of two ways - either up the road to Leamington, or not. If it's not, then it's a weekend where we are AC-less, but where we get to go flying, do school work, bake, tidy, love, be together. I value my weekends in a way I didn't before the accident.
This weekend we are AC-less again, and there is a thousand tonnes of work to do tomorrow on reports and so forth, and there is a combat competition on Sunday, weather permitting.
It will all be fine. I was promised it would be, and I refuse to believe that it won't be.