I give you, Pablo, the Cocky One.
His name, the look on his face, it’s too much. I may need this metallic print from Gallivanting Girl. After all, he’d be a good reminder: don’t get cocky.
Like when you start to get sick and your friend kindly informs you that it’s a horrible, horrible virus known to last two weeks, to which you reply, “Well, that’s not going to be me.”
Now that it’s been a week, I still sound as though I belong in a TB ward, and am sporting a fever blister the size of Texas, I may have cause to rethink that statement. Wretched luck, that.
But the week of skating into work, shedding tears in light of friends who will lose their jobs in the coming year, and needing to go to bed even earlier than usual is nearly behind me.
The weekend, my friends, has arrived.
So strut your stuff, enjoy it . . .
because I’m wishing happy days, to you!