This is probably the earliest in the week that Friday has ever come. I’m not talking about the good Friday (or Good Friday, for that matter, amen). The good Friday is the one that is the last work day, or at least the last day I have to answer my phone with the name of the company instead of a cheery hello. Today, Tuesday though it might be on the calendar, was a bad Friday. A really early bad Friday.

On a bad Friday, all the accumulated late nights and early mornings of the week come together to make the perfect storm. I don’t know when this bludgeon of fatigue has struck me so early in the week, but that’s what I had to deal with today, through payables and payroll and more of the Boss’s infernal lists. There’s no time for naps on Tuesday, so all I can do is keep going at the pace of a three-legged turtle on muscle relaxants.

Obviously it was a bad day to do any power walking. So obviously I ignored the signals my body was sending and set off for the post office, shuffling down the street like the oldster I am. Then I looked up and saw little pods of teenagers walking on the same sidewalk and heading straight for me. The first thing I did was pick up my step (and then move aside so they wouldn’t run me down).

Now, I’m not afraid of teenagers, especially seventh graders (although seventh graders are a lot bigger and scarier than they used to be). I actually like them and don’t mind being around them at all. But I purposely try to finish my daily errands before noon, especially during the school year, so I can walk up and down the sidewalk and have it pretty much to myself.

Today was seventh grade orientation at the middle school which is unfortunately located across the street from the post office. If I’d known that, I probably would have driven up to the post office door, picked up my mail, and headed straight home. Apparently the children were being released at just about the time I shuffled into their neighborhood, and they were everywhere, in little clumps. And they were all expressing their individuality by dressing exactly alike, in black shirts and black jeans.

Anyway, if it hadn’t been such a bad Friday, I wouldn’t have minded sharing the sidewalk (except for the part where one little pod of black-clad teens squeezed me onto the grass). But I had to exert some energy that I wasn’t feeling, and that wore me out even more. I need a Wednesday tomorrow, just to keep bad Fridays from piling on top of each other.