A Friday in the Life

I don’t know about you, but I often find Friday to be the strangest day of the week. No matter what I have planned, things always seem to work out differently than I expect.

Today, Friday, March 22nd, I wanted to bring my projects for the week--both personal and professional--to some kind of conclusion. In the end, I suppose I did, but only after a few unexpected twists and turns.

My first mistake was to lie down “for a few minutes” after getting my son on his school bus this morning. “Just 15 minutes,” I told myself. I thought I could partially make up for all the 2 AM bedtimes I’ve had this week while struggling to keep up with my work load. (I’m a freelance writer/editor, in case you’re wondering.) An hour and a half later, I woke up with a start and decided I’d better get to work.

In order to meet a deadline, I wanted to return a manuscript I’d finished copyediting to a book publisher. It had come with instructions to return it via UPS, along with the publisher’s UPS account number.

I went online to generate a shipping label on the UPS site. I plugged in the account number, but UPS didn’t recognize it. So I fired off an e-mail to the editor who sent me the manuscript, asking him to confirm the number.

Meanwhile, the place where I was having my car repaired called to say that it was ready. Picking it up would involve a lengthy cross-town trip on public transportation--and some walking as well. I was about to set off on that errand when I remembered that this was a half day at my son’s school, because of teacher conferences. He’d be arriving home on the bus soon, so I’d have to stick around.

While I was wondering how I’d juggle all this—and as two more editing projects arrived via e-mail—I checked to see if the editor at the book publisher had responded to my message yet. No response. I also couldn’t reach him on the phone. “Screw it,” I thought, “I’ll send it back by FedEx.” I went to the FedEx website, input the information (it recognized the publisher’s FedEx number), printed out a label and scheduled a pick-up.

It was time to meet my son’s school bus. I waited at the bus stop in the freezing wind for quite a while. “It would be late,” I thought. “That’s how this day is going.” Finally, the bus came. But he wasn’t on it.

I went inside and called the school. “He’s in the after-school homework club today,” Chris, the school’s receptionist, informed me. “I thought there was no after-school program today because it’s a half day,” I said. “No, we have it today,” he said. “Oh. OK, have him call me when he finishes his homework,” I said.

I went back inside and decided that maybe I should go pick up the car after all. “But what if FedEx comes to pick up the package while I’m gone?” I thought. “Maybe I should just sit tight. But I’ll have to go out anyway and catch a bus to the school to pick up my son when he calls. Maybe I should go get the car, pick up my son, and hope I get back before FedEx comes.” While I was mulling this over, my son called. “Dad, I’m done with my homework,” he said, in the slow, deep voice that he only uses on the phone. “OK,” I said. “But I won’t be there for a while, because I have to pick up the car.” “OK,” he said. I could hear the disappointment in his voice.

I went out and caught a bus. It seemed to move in slow motion through the afternoon traffic. Finally, I got off at Journal Square and began to walk toward the car dealership--which isn’t on any bus route that I’m aware of. It was about a 20 minute walk, which I normally wouldn’t mind--I like to walk and consider myself something of an “urban hiker.” But the temperature was in the low 30s and, with the wind chill, it felt like about zero. I walked fast, both to keep warm and because I was still having fantasies about not missing FedEx.

Luckily, retrieving the car was quick and easy--once I handed over my credit card. Soon I was inching my way through afternoon traffic again, but at least I was at the wheel this time. I wasn’t quite sure how to get to the school from the car dealership, but I managed to do it without getting lost (which is quite an accomplishment for me; I’ll write here about my shaky sense of direction sometime.)

My son was watching a “boring” video with some other kids and was happy to see me. Soon we were crawling through Friday afternoon traffic again. We arrived home, but there was nowhere in sight to park. (We urbanites have to park on the street.) Finally, I found a place only a short walk from our condo.

Back inside, I checked the FedEx website to see if I’d missed the pick-up. Apparently not; the web page said that the package hadn’t been “scanned” yet. Just then the door bell rang. “Eureka,” I thought. I ran downstairs with the manuscript, but it wasn’t FedEx--just the regular mailman with a package from my in-laws. I trudged back upstairs. Just as I sat down to start some work--my first paid work of the day, even though I felt like I’d been laboring for hours--the doorbell rang again. I grabbed my package and hustled downstairs to the front door. There she was, the woman I’d been waiting for, in her FedEx overalls. I handed her the package, heaved a sigh, and climbed the stairs again. At least I got some exercise today, I thought.

It was 4 o’clock. “Nobody starts working at 4 o’clock on a Friday,” I thought to myself. “But then, I’m a work-at-home freelancer--9 to 5 should mean nothing to me, right?”

My son had other plans for me, though: “Dad, can we go to the park?” He wanted to practice his baseball moves. “OK,” I said. “I give up,” I thought.

We walked to the park, and I threw him some grounders and fly balls. It was still cold, and my fingers began to go numb. “Pitch to me,” he begged. “OK, 20 pitches,” I said.

My fingers had stiffened up, and most of my pitches were lousy. He kept giving me dirty looks. Finally, he got a series of hits, though, and agreed to call it a day.

Back inside, I made myself a steamy mug of coffee. I sat down and tried to decide if, after all the effort, I’d actually accomplished anything worthwhile this day. I still haven’t decided.

“But what the hell,” I thought, swigging some coffee and burning my tongue a little. “It’s Friday.”