{She said} Countdown, or Happy Friday

Remember when you were a kid and your mom bought you days-of-the week underwear?  And it was a momentous occasion to get dressed in the morning and pull out the Wednesday pant!es?  {Or mant!es, if you happen to have that Y chromosome.}  It was a childhood-innocence countdown to that lovely institution known as the weekend.  Remember...when cartoons were worth watching and there was a whole box of sugar cereal with your name on it?  

I'm a few years beyond days-of-the-week underpinnings.  But adulthood does find me with a little clothing ritual that makes me grin as I go through the week.  You see, in my profession I spend a lot of time on my feet.  In an effort to combat gravity and my wretched protoplasm/genetics, I wear these babies every single day I'm on the job:

Yeah, you're seeing it right. I wear nurse socks.  Ugly as can be, but at least my scrubs hide them.
There are just enough nurse socks to get through the week, all lined up in a row like little days-of-the-week soldiers in my sock drawer.  It's a countdown from Monday on, one pair of elastic-laden compression hose at a time.  And at the end of the march of numbers, I experience my own personal little triumph as I reach through the pre-dawn gloom and pull out...

The Friday Socks.

I'll be wearing the blessed Friday socks right now as you read this, grinning my just-waiting-for-Saturday grin.  Cartoons and sugar cereal have given way to time with the husband and a visit to the Farmers' Market, but this momentous day is no less anticipated. May Friday find you with a little spring in your step, too.  

{I just hope you're not still wearing your Wednesday pant!es.}