Oh hey, Thursday. I thought I would pen you a little note on this chilly morning. And it goes something like this:
Dearest Thursday,
Though you will inevitably slam me with an infinite number of status meetings, catch-ups, and check-ins, I will not be daunted by your stressful bounty of insanity. Because as the (advertising) natives get restless and require me to strategize making it through another day in the asylum, I'm not feeling any pain, because I for one am gazing at this photo of Veruschka, she of 60s supermodel muse fame, in Marrakech, and in my head, I am right there, in that fabulous outfit, peering through those lattice gates onto some St. Laurent inspired garden. Hey Thursday, you don't scare me, cause in my mind, I'm somewhere else. Somewhere where the air is scented with frangipani, jasmine, and musk. Where the sweet air is heavy with seduction, adventure, and smoke. A place where shoes don't matter (no need) and a walk become more of a saunter. Where there is no subway, no well dressed account team, and absolutely no process documents. Oh, I'm so not here. I'm there. Now bugger off. I've got pajamas and kaftans to wear and adventures the color of saffron and crimson to have.
Warm (very warm) regards,
The Maven
(And that's what's up this penning letters to weekdays kind of Thursday in the two one tizzle. Perhaps you'd like to pen your own letter, find amuse, or envision your own escape route. XO