Let me count the ways --
You are the end of a tough school week that has exhausted me to the core.
You're the day I finish classes early -- 3:15 instead of the typical 5.
You are the day I get to drive down to Houston to see my wonderful friend, The Cynical Optimist, whom I miss dearly.
You're the beginning of the weekend, which is always a wonderful, wonderful thing.
On weekends when I get to go home, you are the day I long for, when I get to spend three and a half hours on the open road with no one but my lovely car Scott and Taylor Swift, or Bright Eyes, or Ke$ha, or whomever my current musical obsession is.
You are the day when I'm exhausted from a late night out of dancing, but 20 years from now I'll only remember crawling into bed at 3 am on a Friday morning with a smile on, not how hard it was to get up in the morning.
In less than a month, you are the day my spring break starts, when I get to spend more than 48 hours in a row with Mr. Man and go on some secret trip my parents have planned.
Friday, you are all around lovely. Why is it that you only stop by once a week?