If you could take away a day from the week, what day would it be?
I heard this question in a radio talk show a couple of nights ago. And I answered it in my head.
I cannot take away Monday. It's "Manic Monday." It's when one is either excited/hopeful in starting the week, and in some ways, a new life or highly frustrated for again starting yet another unremarkable seven days.
Wednesday, I cannot take away too. It has such character. It's the middle of the work and school week and Lisa's made a song with it, "Waiting for Wednesday." It's the day when you think of how you'll progress through the rest of the week, make it quite pretty, if not fantastic.
Thursday, Thursday is my favorite. It's the day before Friday. When Thursday comes, Friday becomes so near, meaning the weekend is so near. And just pronounce "thurs." Hear it. It's soft and smooth as rabbit's fur.
Friday? May be over-rated, but I, too, scream, T.G.I.F.! on that very day.
Saturday--well, we love it. Simply, excessively. I treasure a heartful of Saturdays in my life.
And Sunday is always blessed with that "Sun"--er--that clarity of sorts. It's my personal rest day. Lazy Sunday. Slow, sweet Sunday.
Therefore: Tuesday is the unspecial one. It simply lays there. It's like one of those acquaintances whom you can live without. Who has not stirred your story even ever so slightly. A verse that has not pierced its way into memory.
Tuesday, I had my heart bruised. By not knowing enough. By knowing too well. Both A and B. A fish in a bowl well aware of salted water.
You are not fair. You're rejecting me at the wrong time. Variations of no and silence would've been useful in the beginning when nothing's begun yet; when there's nothing to end.