Woke up this morning totally convinced it was Saturday, not just in a vague way but with the concrete sense of Friday night 'done with the week-ness' behind me. So I was only routinely annoyed that FB would wait till Saturday to remind me of a friend's birthday that was certainly on Friday, and the fact that she lives in Japan doesn't excuse it. I was merely puzzled that there was a school crossing guard at Christie- must be a special occasion on at Essex- and I was quite elated that the coffee shop was miraculously empty of noon brunchers and I could get a table. It was only when the owner said 'We only do brunch on weekends' that the first niggles of doubt began. Even when I got to work (fortunately, not late for my shift) I could still barely believe it was really Friday. My time sense said otherwise, and said it very loud.