There are some Saturday nights that are rare and require extended pages in your journal to retell. The kind where you and your best friend go out on the town, dance the night away, play a part in your typical girl meets boy at a bar fairytale, and then wake up late on Sunday morning and relive the exciting night before over plates of gigantic breakfasts with said bestie.
And then there are your typical Saturday nights. The kind where you spend the night at home, completely changed into your vintage PJ set, and like last night, where you spend the majority of the evening curled up on your favorite chair reading for hours on end (or watching multiple episodes of Dateline).
Yesterday was the latter. It's also the type of Saturday night that I'm more familiar with, as its basically engrained in my weekly routine.
What can I say? I'm old-fashioned that way.
But that's not to say that I don't enjoy those rare Saturday nights. See, what makes them so fun for me is the fact that I don't go out very often. I wait a few months, save the date for a "night out", and then it ends up completely making up those long months I spent playing a part in my typical Saturday night.
It's also nice to appreiate the quiet nights in. It's a time for reflection, solitude, and for furiously catching your journal up to date on the last Saturday night's adventure.
Until the next rare Saturday night out though, I'm afraid typical Saturday nights are pretty booked.
If you know what I mean.