It's the weekend, and that's a good thing. The week becomes the weekend and work fades into sleep and dreams. What will I dream of? Last night it was cake, lots of cake. Maybe tonight it will be a better world, happiness, and love and kindness flowing indiscriminately between people. Or, it could just be more cake.
And then it will be Monday, weekend dreams will be forgotten, and I'll walk to work in the semi-dark, a cold breeze stinging my morning eyes. The cake will be a distant memory, though I'll still hope to find it again in some distant dream. Everybody will get cake one day.