Working for the Weekend

I saw a commercial awhile back — I think it might be for beer or some kind of SUV, who knows? — anyhoo, I liked it, mostly for its catch-phrase, which went something like this:

“There are 40 hours in a week ... but the weekend has 48!”

Sorta crystallizes my thoughts perfectly.

: )

This is the moon tonight.

Speaking of crystallizing my thoughts:

Yesterday, I saw a Peanuts strip that summed up all the reasons that, even though I believe I am (mostly) a clear-thinking person blessed with common sense, compassion, a rational mind and a basic understanding of human behavior, I could probably never be a counselor or a therapist. (I’d link to the strip if I had the slightest clue how to do so; since I don’t, I will describe it here for posterity.)

First panel: Lucy is sitting in her psychiatrist’s booth — PSYCHIATRIC HELP 47¢ across the top, THE DOCTOR IS IN across the bottom. She has her elbows on the table, her hands on her face, and her eyes appear to be closed. Charlie Brown is seated on a stool in front of the booth and says, “Well, I appreciate the help you’ve given me.”

Second panel: Charlie Brown, with his right hand in front of his mouth, continues, “I was wondering, though, if I should get a second opinion.”

Third panel: Lucy — who is now leaning back, her feet up on the counter of the booth, her hands behind her head and her eyes furrowed into a slight frown — replies, “Only if you don’t mind my beating you over the head with that stool you’re sitting on!”

Fourth panel: Charlie Brown, with his hands on his knees, says, “I guess first opinions are pretty good.”

(Joe Anne has always told me I remind her of Lucy.)

: )