Got a Favorite Day of the Week, Go Figure
Monday, I think this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship
For most of my adult, salaried life I’ve distrusted Friday. You know why: they are sneaky, they are a mirage, they make you think that you’ve got your life back. But just for a speck of time.
You can tell there’s something fishy about the Fri when the company men and women putting the monies to buy your forty hours of abject servitude—if you are lucky—start inviting you to ridiculously named events: happy hour, fun Friday, bring your lizard to work day. “Oh, boy!” chortles the resident sycophant. “Do I love fun Friday!”
Most of these occurrences are a mixture of empty conversations, boring games, alcohol, cookies and—sometimes—ice cream.
Ice cream? Fucking love ice cream!
Beware, what comes next is something I wouldn’t wish my worst enemy—Saturday.
That’s it, stop smirking, you know where this is going.
Let’s pretend you have a life
Saturday is a bitch. You may have plans ready to enjoy it to the fullest with your tribe or, like me, you have fingers (types “things to do on Saturday near my location”). Whatever the case that clock is ticking. You better run, have fun, pronto. Oh, and allow me to remind you—that laundry won’t wash itself.
There goes your Saturday, Timmy.
And now it’s Sunday and who cares; it will just fade away. Shouldn’t even count as a real day and whoever invented it deserves to spend it in the boats. Do not google that if you like what you are eating (here, help yourself).
You won’t even be done complaining about Sunday before Monday is back at your door yelling and demanding for your total attention and remaining reserves of oxygen and patience.
“Teeemeee! Accounting needs your budget report by EOD, care to share your ETA?”
But that’s not me anymore. I have a new friend now, my favorite day of the week, and his name is Mr. Monday.
Is it possible to learn this power?
Not from a normal job, my friend. If you’ve chosen—or got no choice and must just follow—the way of the sarariman that’s how the weekends go. As the saying goes, this is your life now, adopt fetal position.
My only suggestion on this beautiful, sunny, summer Monday morning (see accompanying photograph) is plain: quit that job today.
I know it sounds easier than it is but I promise I’m releasing more detailed and practical advice in the coming days.
It’s not my intention to make fun of how much your life sucks—a lot—but to offer a glimpse of the possibilities, starting with something as simple as not hating your present day. Every second of your life, of everybody’s life, is precious, and you shouldn’t sacrifice it to the best bidder.
I’m just starting my first free week, what looks like the first great Monday of my life, and am already working on what’s important to me. I’m in such a delighted mood that I’ll dare throwing an old simile: I’m as happy as a clam.
Now, if you excuse me, I’ve got plenty of fun things to do with Mr. Monday. Oh, look, ice cream!
I’ll see you around.