A depressingly high percentage of my posts talk about how short weekends are compared to an equal number of week days.
Monday and Tuesday ooze by as slowly as a slime monster in a 1950s monster movie.
Saturday and Sunday, on the other hand, zip by like the Roadrunner in the old Wile E. Coyote cartoons from my youth.
I play the part of Wile E. Coyote who whips out a small “Help!” sign as the Rube Goldberg contraption he’d ordered from Acme, built, and set into motion just as he saw the cloud of dust representing the Roadrunner appear on the horizon, reacts too slowly to catch the speedy Roadrunner and instead (almost literally) blows up in Wile’s face.
Some of you are no doubt asking, “But Biff, can we learn to write long, rambling run-on sentences like the one you just wrote up there?”
Yes you can.
But that is a blog post for another day.
No, today I’m here to tell you that this weekend went by so fast that a Rube Goldberg contraption is about to blow up in my face.