Friday.

I don't care if Monday's blue.
Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too.
Thursday I don't care about you.
Its Friday, I'm upstairs at 11pm mopping the bathroom floor.

Wait. That's not how The Cure sang it? Drat.

This evening, I had some friends over. One friend has daughters that my kids have grown up with since they were 1.  Naturally, they adore each other to the bone.  Normally, the girls are all very quiet and just play in Norah's room, dressing up in silly clothes, playing with stuffed cats, perhaps putting on some makeup, and generally, getting out every toy known to mankind.
Tonight they opted for the Path of Adventure, it seems.
You see, I found my feet sticking to the upstairs bathroom floor.  A pile of 3 bath towels laying on the floor. An overturned spray bottle of air freshener.  A bottle of Method hand soap, with a suspiciously lower level than before, sitting on the floor.
It turns out that the girls turned the bathroom into a skating rink.
Brilliant? Naughty? Creative?
You decide while you're mopping at 11pm, having to change the water each time because of the amount of soap in it.