The Days of my week

Humour me a little. Remember when everyday of the week had its own purpose, a purpose that could not change? When Monday meant dread, Wednesday meant anticipation and Friday for fun? Wait; was it just me who was lame enough to actually describe the days?

But seriously, I’m talking about when Monday used to mean school, where each week without fail you were sure to get punished for one thing or another, usually incomplete homework by (if you were lucky) a teacher who genuinely had your best interest at heart or (most often than not) one who was mad with power? And when Wednesday was a really lovely day because by then you have figured out what the week had in store for you and whatever that was – at least (because it was Wednesday) you could take heart in that the week would soon be over? Wednesday was always full of promise. Even today Wednesday means that one is that much closer to the weekend and pretty far away from Monday- now isn’t that just an amazing day?

Then there was Friday, oh what a day. On Friday no matter what mountain lay before you or which side of the bed you woke up on, Friday just seemed to make it all bearable. The day was never long enough for the right or wrong reasons. When you were not having a particularly good day, Friday (because it’s Friday), seemed to have the innate ability to shorten the day just enough for you to find respite, just as when you were having an exceptional day Friday just never seemed to be as long as you’d have liked it to be – but it was still long enough.

As if that wasn’t enough Friday brought with it the promise of a Saturday (excited gasp), ah Saturday with her ability to suit everyone’s needs almost the way Friday does but not quite. Saturday’s beauty and power lay in her ability to (regardless of the situation), make one almost forget about all the other days of the week – quite incredible if you ask me.

And then there was Sunday, which was the most schizophrenic day there ever was or will be, not even a public holiday on a Tuesday was as confusing to describe. Sunday was a day of two tales. On the one side the day had an uncomfortable characteristic about it that you weren’t meant to say out loud because of the religious connotations attached to the day. On its other side was the more socially acceptable description; ‘a day of rest’. But answer me this – how does one rest with the impending arrival of Monday and all her gloom and drag?

On Sunday we’d also go to church or at least are meant to – this is the ‘day of rest’ part of it. We’d all dress up or down (times have changed since 3 piece suits and large veiled hats came into fashion), hold on tightly to our most important book in its varied shapes and sizes and flock towards varied but similar venues across the world where we bear our souls and ask forgiveness for things we’ve done wrong, which we’d all repeat at some time or another.

Ah yes, those were the days and still are – it’s quite incredible how things are pretty much the same in my grown up days. The only difference is that now, Monday is still for dread but since we’re all grown we’ll use grown up vocabulary and say it like it is, Monday blows! Period. Wednesday has retained some of its anticipatory features but let’s face it, not only does aging shorten your time on earth with each passing year, but it also takes with it part of your youthful optimism of “all things bright and beautiful”. So we don’t so much anticipate the bright future which Wednesday used to foretell so much as we arduously will ourselves forward through a seemingly unending week fuelled on only by fading memories from our much positive, glass half full youthful selves.

The saving grace is that Friday has stood the test of time and tastes even sweeter than I could have ever imagined, particularly for those of us cowardly enough to have chosen the much safer option of securing employment ahead of the more braver and exciting, going with the flow, couch philosopher type of employment option.

My point here is that, the order of things in life is preordained. We and everything else in our lives are part of an already set hierarchical order which is sometimes difficult if not impossible to change. Even simple days of the week have had their destiny sealed before they could make a case for themselves – surely Monday would have preferred to be anything but.