Imagine Genesis if God approached his work as we so often do:

In the beginning it was nine o’clock, so God had to go to work. He filled out a requisition to separate light from darkness. He considered making stars to beautify the night, and planets to fill the skies, but thought it sounded like too much work; and besides, thought God, “That’s not my job.” So he decided to knock off early and call it a day. And he looked at what he had done and he said, “It’ll have to do.”

On the second day God separated the waters from the dry land. And he made all the dry land flat, plain, and functional, so that — behold — the whole earth looked like Idaho. He thought about making mountains and valleys and glaciers and jungles and forests, but he decided it wouldn’t be worth the effort. And God looked at what he had done that day and said, “It’ll have to do.”

And God made a pigeon to fly in the air, and a carp to swim in the waters, and a cat to creep upon dry ground. And God thought about making millions of other species of all sizes and shapes and colors, but he couldn’t drum up any enthusiasm for any other animals — in fact, he wasn’t too crazy about the cat. Besides, it was almost time for the Late Show. So God looked at all he had done, and God said, “It’ll have to do.”

And at the end of the week, God was seriously burned out. So he breathed a big sigh of relief and said, “That Me, it’s Friday.”

Of course, Genesis looks nothing like that. Instead it throbs with the refrain “God said, … And it was so. … and indeed, it was very good.”