Days of the Week
By: Mandy B. Fernandez
The days of the week invoke
certain feelings for me. If I wake up realizing Sunday is
actually Monday, my mood changes drastically. This is how I
talk to each day of the week, like I know each one personally:
You sneaky little b*tch! You just slipped right out from under
me. Why do you whisper and tiptoe around acting like we don’t
know you’re coming to ruin a perfectly good weekend? You make
me manic. You’re not my fun day or my run day. You never have
my coffee ready on time. Jimmy Buffet never serenades me like
he promises so you better shower me with love, and not via
raindrops. You know how rainy days and Mondays always get me
You may be the most overlooked day of
the week but I think you are great. You have the best lunch
and drink specials. You often have great pizza deals. A store
is named after your honor with commercials by a famous
actress. You’re multi-talented. Even Ruby needs your help in
the kitchen again. You bring us one day closer to a day off. I
People call you hump day. I refer to you as decision day. We
must decide if the week is half over or the week is still just
beginning. I hate you for making me choose. Don’t I have
enough to worry about? You belong to the Adams family, not me.
And though I admire your sarcasm, I have enough of my own.
People try to make you wordless but let’s face it, we are
still talking. You give others ashes but me rashes. Please end
before my dog humps my leg again.
They are calling you the new “Friday” as you have been gaining
popularity among the masses. Perhaps it is because heartless
Wednesday will drag out for so long that we wake up confused
that you are the final day of our workweek. I try not to hold
it against you. It must feel awful to always be second-place,
second-best. In college, you were the best night to go out
though, if that is any consolation for you. Chin up and keep
People wake up happy at the sheer mention of your name. You
sly, sexy thing you! Thank you for letting me be casual today.
Jeans or Hawaiian shirt day, does it matter? So long as I
don’t have to think about it or iron it. With you, I can have
my cake and eat it too. You invoke the best in people –
extended vacations, early cocktail hour and playing hookey.
Sometimes you get a little freaky but it’s all for our
benefit. I’m in love with you by 5p.m. each week. Sometimes
even 4:30 p.m. Shh, it’ll be our little secret.
Yes, I know I have laundry to do and dishes to clean. Sure the
grass needs cutting. But I have that party to go to and a
barbecue to attend. And there is a sale at that new store. And
then there’s this thing after that. You know I love you baby.
Thanks for letting me sleep in and staying in my pajamas all
morning long. I enjoyed our cuddle time. But now it’s time for
fun. I promise to be home early. No I wouldn’t ditch you for
Sunday again, I promise.
People worship you. You are adored by millions. Holy crap, I
didn’t do anything I was supposed to on Saturday! Forgive me
for I have sinned. Shame on me for neglecting my regular
duties and wasting an entire day to self-indulge. Why are you
causing time to roll by so fast? Is that the sun setting
already? Why are you punishing me? Please, no – don’t send
Monday over to me again. No, anything but that! Please!
(Note: This piece earned Mandy a Finalist in the
Humor Press Third Quarter 2013 writing contest.)