And if that's not a word... well, then it proves my point.
Every day this week I've woken up thinking it is Saturday. And every day it has actually been a work day.
When the alarm goes off Mr. San Antonio gets up (like a normal person), and I role over and lisp through my retainer something to the effect of, "ugh... no... thith ithn't fair... i'm not getting up."
Then in the pitch black of the early morning, Mr. SA get the coffee started and comes back and either sings in my face, or pulls the covers off me, or if he's in a nice mood he'll stroke my hair and say, "Rithe and schline shleepy head." And then I have to get up so I can chase him down the hall and karate chop him.
But eventually I am bound to wake up on an actual real life Saturday. I will nestle deep into the comforter and I will refuse to get up until the sun peaks through the window shade. Once that happens, I will emerge from my cocoon without complaining. I'll celebrate the day by making pumpkin bread, and dressing head to toe in burnt orange, and watching Texas defeat OU.
Here's a picture of me and Kate when Texas beat USC:
This is back when I had a fake tooth. Apparently it is also back when I used to smile with my mouth hanging wide open.
In any case, I'll be donning similar attire this Saturday. And cheering along with Kate (even though she's across the sea).
Maybe this weekend I'll also be responsible and organize our new filing container... but maybe not.
I'll be too focused on yelling "Fight Texthus Fight!"