Routine? What Routine?

Holidays that fall on Fridays are just so weird. Not that I have anything against Juneteenth or anything. My Southern Black ancestors would probably want me to celebrate the day when the US finally lived up to its promise of liberty for all, and I do.

However, from the moment the sun rose on the 19th, the day felt like a Saturday, the one day of the week in which I basically become one with the couch and enjoy the young'uns and my favorite viewing fare.

But I couldn't.

Because it was Friday, every bit of me was in complete the work-week duties mode. You know, the Friday push to clear your in-box so the next week starts fresh and clear. It was the very same push that utterly failed to set upon me the day prior. Now my inbox is to being clear what the Strait of Hormuz is to open shipping.

Dammit.

Juneteenth came and went, and that brings us to today, to Saturday in the Twilight Zone. Everything just feels strange. My mind is hard-wired for Sunday operation, for taking clothes to a local coin-op laundromat in the morning and relaxing afterwards in preparation for the upcoming work week.

But it's really Saturday, even if I don't feel it, even if it feels like Sunday. I've even watched footage of past baseball and football games simply because the Sunday radiance is blindingly strong today. 

I watched my favorite Sunday sports on a faux Sunday because I couldn't embrace a Saturday. Did I just hear Rod Serling's voice in the distance? Or was that B.F. Skinner?

As I try to imagine what tomorrow will feel like, images of my overstuffed in-box are dancing in my head. Tomorrow is calendar Sunday, but I just know I'm going to begin executing my Monday routine by rote before catching myself.

Does a Friday day off mess up anyone else's weekend routine?