It is Sunday, the day of rest. It doesn’t seem to matter to me that my official day of rest, my Sabbath, is supposed to be Saturday. My habit seems to be that Saturday is the day of fun. Sunday is the day of rest. Friday is the day we unofficially let down our hair because the weekend is on its way.

As a matter of fact, I could characterize each and every day of the week for you. This comes as a surprise to me, because neither my husband nor I work “regular” jobs now. Neither of us is in school, and yet:

Monday- The day we mourn the weekend. It is over, no matter how you slice it. Unless, of course, it is one of those phony Monday holidays that were invented to give us the three-day weekend. But mostly, the myth of “Blue Monday” actually holds, whether it is the first day of the school week or the first day of the work week – or just the first day beginning with “M”. Medical research has shown there is a greater chance for heart attacks on Monday mornings.

Tuesday – The day mostly characterized by having gotten through Monday. There is absolutely nothing to distinguish Tuesday from any other day except that it is not Monday. This is the most likely day for Lady’s Day during Happy Hour at the local watering hole.

Wednesday – When we begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Drive-time DJs consistently refer to Wednesday as “Hump Day”. At noon, there is exactly as much of the work week behind us as there is before us. But by the end of the day, we are more than half-way there.

Thursday – The unofficial almost-end-of-the-week. Thursday is better than Wednesday, but still only tantalizingly close to the weekend. I noticed when I was working in an office that tempers tended to flare on Thursdays. People are just “up to here” with the work week, and tend to feel like the weekend will never come. Thursdays could get ugly.

Friday – At last. By noon it is acceptable to go into slo-mo. Maybe you take an extra long lunch break. Maybe you get your work done early and get a jump start on the weekend. I would be willing to bet that Friday afternoon is when most illicit trysts at sleazy hotels are conducted. Friday night you feel like you’ve been freed from prison. Friday night is, of course, date night second only to Saturday night.

Saturday – Although, as I mentioned, Saturday is fun day, there is a slightly sad undercurrent to Saturday; when you have a two-day weekend, the first of the two days is sure to be followed by the second (last) of two days. So, while you’re having fun, you’re frantic to squeeze in all the fun you can before depression creeps in. That’s why people make rash purchasing decisions on Saturday afternoons. Saturday night is SERIOUS date night.

Sunday – Rest day. Well, you’re worn out from all the frantic fun of Saturday. You know this is the end of your respite. It makes sense to laze around, conserving what little energy you have left after Saturday night, reading the Sunday paper, half-heartedly working on the crossword puzzle, and bracing yourself for the coming week. (NOTE: Some people go to church. It is well-known that Saturday leads to Sunday contrition).

My bubby (my grandmother) used to famously say, “Don’t wish your life away!”. She would have scolded me for squandering perfectly fine days wishing it were Friday or Saturday. She would say I was a fool not to take every opportunity to enjoy all the wonders that are constantly put before me. And Bubby must have had an uncanny sense that her own time was short – She died at 57.

Well, Bubby – You were right. But today is Sunday, so I’ll rest today. Tomorrow I’ll get started on my new attitude.

© 2004 Robin Munson

 Category: Robin's Nest

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