I’m a time traveller. That’s right and I don’t even try. True, I only travel short distances but travel I do. Today, for instance, I woke up in the certainty it was Wednesday, which it was, but a few hours later I developed another certainty, that it’s actually Thursday. And that’s just a minor trip.
There was one week recently when I only got one day right, Monday. Tuesday, Wednesday was a Friday, Thursday was a Saturday, and Friday, if I remember correctly, which I probably don’t, was a Thursday. Or a Wednesday. It’s hard to keep track.
Not that I’m complaining, mind you. Okay, so it’s not particularly pleasant to wake up thinking “Yay! Saturday!” and soon have your brain kicked by your brain (that brain!) into accepting the reality it is actually Tuesday and the real Saturday is actually four whole days away. But it’s so nice to surprise yourself by realising it is Friday and not Wednesday as you glumly thought when you woke up.
There is a scientific explanation for this, by the way, because there is a scientific explanation for pretty much everything. here’s this study from three years ago that found we tend to have trouble distinguishing between Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday but a much clearer sense of Monday and Friday. Not surprisingly, that’s because we associate them with certain things: negative for Mondays and positive for Fridays.
But the thing is I don’t work strictly Monday to Friday. Sometimes I work seven days a week. Most often I work six because I decide to have a little break in the middle of the week and catch up on Sunday. So, for me, Monday is often something like a Tuesday. Even when it’s not, I like Mondays. Yes. I like Mondays. Most of the time. I guess it’s because I do what I like for the most part and, more importantly, I work for myself rather than a boss. But I generally don’t mind the pother days, either.
Let’s see now. Tuesday? One day closer to Thursday and Thursday has a special place in my heart. So special I have a whole Thursday Theory, which I will blog about at some point if I don’t forget. Also, Tuesday is a bit boring as a day and I feel kind of sad for it, so I like it out of pity. I mean, it’s neither gross Monday nor Wednesday, the Little Friday, nor Friday itself. Poor Tuesday.
Wednesday? Today is Wednesday. Middle of the week. I gather people hate it but it’s not called Little Friday for nothing. (Side note: I just googled the phrase and I see in English-speaking cultures it’s Thursday that’s the Little Friday. Odd but funny, right?) Wednesday is also the day for a midweek break if I can afford it. Only work that needs to be done gets done on this day, the rest is for Sunday. Besides, Wednesday is two days closer to Saturday than Tuesday. Warming thought.
Thursday? A day for pathological laziness, painful boredom, wit, and a little bit of (more than usual) madness of the funny sort. I make the best jokes on Thursdays. I also make the funniest typos: the United States are most prone to becoming the Untied States on Thursdays, as are stock exchanges prone to transforming into sock exchanges, and sales prone to turning into shales. I’m pretty sure I demoted the Pacific Ocean to a sea on a Thursday. I love Thursday.
Friday. Friday is the day when I feel entitled to some exhaustion. The concept of exhaustion is usually only theoretical for me as is the concept of actual hunger but occasionally I decide to feel genuinely tired and these occasions happen to take place on Fridays. That’s not because I have an endless supply of energy. It’s because I’m quote absent-minded and only notice I’m tired on Fridays and not every Friday, either. All the more so because on Fridays I’m already making plans for the weekend, though they are almost invariably the same plans: write, translate, take kid to figure-skating, feed her, boss her around, read/binge on TV shows, bake something, have beer with husband, check homework, boss kid around some more, dinner time.
Saturday. Er, see above. I often put off work stuff for Saturday only to get up, look at what I’ve scribbled on my desktop calendar (Paper calendar. I’m a Gen X-er and I’m not ashamed of it) and tell myself “Forget it. I’ve got Sunday.” So, Saturday is a lovely day because I can procrastinate some more. I even pretend to act surprised when I do it and indulge in the luxurious feeling I am having a whole day of rest. Translation doesn’t count as work though I do get paid for it. It’s weird and I can’t explain it. Oh, sometimes I don’t translate on Saturday and that’s the best.
Sunday. By that point I’ve had enough rest, so I rather like having something to do besides my own writing. Sunday is my Little Monday because I only do what I have put off from the work week, so it’s not a full work day but rather half or a third of it. If I’m feeling especially energetic, I even do some stuff that I usually do on Monday, which leaves less work for Monday Proper and that’s another great feeling right there.
And then I wake up on Monday and think “Oh, Wednesday, great. Two more whole days till Friday. I hate my life.”