Days of the Week

Monday: Oh, Tuesday, you don’t know the troubles that I go through. I always get the grumbles and the tired faces. They are always waiting for me to leave. As soon as the sun shines its light on me, they start cursing out, asking for the sun to quicken its pace. But it is all because of Sunday and Saturday, who always try to act like they are different. They are always trying to be the fun and exciting ones while portraying us as the boring ones.

Sunday: No. No. No. Don’t blame it on me. I also have to deal with the foul mood in my evenings. I’m always the one who has to put an end to the party in their eyes. And that’s before they wake up in the morning, slow and lazy, after what Saturday puts them through.

Saturday: Sunday, really? I thought you and I are in this weekend thing together. While you might be convinced I’m the fun one, it’s not usually the case. The fatigue you see in your mornings is from the legions of plans usually crammed into me. All you weekdays know how you shift all your plans to me as if I have an extra hour over any of you. And so, they never get to appreciate me but rather speed along through my hours trying to get as much done before the weekend ends. The irony. But it’s all thanks to the hype Friday throws around the weekend.

Friday: I’d love to say that I hate being the fun one that everybody gets excited about but I’d be lying. Y’all need to let in some cheer in your lives. Let loose a little bit and let go of the business suits you insist on having. Try some jeans for once. And the holidays don’t count. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll shed off the sombre faces y’all attract.

Photo by Joanjo Pavon on Unsplash

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