Monday blues

It’s Sunday night. And I am preparing for bed. But something is keeping me awake. It is the thought of all the days in a week starting with tomorrow. Tomorrow is Monday. It is the first day of the long week. It is also the start of the first five working days before the much anticipated weekends.

If anything, Monday is most dreaded by many. Even its name reminds me of the first three letters of “Mon-otony”.  If the 7 days of the week came together for a popularity contest, I guess Friday and Saturday would win hands down (or a tie between them). That Monday would definitely come in last. Monday is darn unpopular! 

And if all 7 days were in a dog pound eagerly waiting for adoption, I guess the only day that would be left behind is Monday. Nobody wants Monday. It is usually unexciting and dull, even mind-numbingly predictable. Although Monday doesn’t bite, it does something even worse, it is mostly dead. And it is said that it is best to let dead Mondays or dogs lie.

There is really no sting in Monday. No one wants to get up for Monday. Saturday is different. Everybody can’t wait for Saturday. There is always a jovial spring in one’s step for Saturday. Saturday doesn’t make any demands on you. It doesn’t dictate its terms to you. It doesn’t lord over you.

Saturday let you be. It is like a butler at your service. You can wake up early or sleep real late. You can jumble up your breakfast with lunch and call it brunch. Or you can sleep through it all and merge your breakfast with dinner and call it dine-fast.

Even Friday is not a bad company. Being the last day of the working week, Friday starts your weekend motor running. By Friday, you are at gearshift 5 and you are ready for the freeway. Friday is like riding the roller coaster as it approaches the top, just before the plunge. It is fun, exhilarating and pulse-racing. The anticipation can sometimes make your bladder squirt.

On Friday, however tired you are over the last few days, including having survived dead Mondays, you are ready to let it all go. There is indeed a lightness of being on Friday. Like helium, you feel you can fly. Everybody thank God for Friday but comes Monday, the prayer for thanksgiving generally turns into one of forbearance and for some even mercy.

Now Thursday is not that bad if you think about it. It is the eve of Friday and that means the eve of the weekends. If Friday is batman, then Thursday is its sidekick robin. If Friday is Snoopy, then Thursday is Woodstock. And if Friday is the president, then Thursday is his first lady. Erm…I think you get the point.

If there is Friday, then you can’t do without Thursday. And by extension, if Friday ushers in Saturday with the popping of champagne, then Thursday cuts the welcoming ribbon for Friday.

Now how about Wednesday? Well, Wednesday is actually not that bad either. It is the middle of the working week and if you have made it so far, you can be heartily congratulated. You deserve a mid-week medal; something to motivate you to finish the race. So, Wednesday is like a springboard to set you up for the weekends. And since it is next to Thursday, and if sidekick comes with its own sidekick, then maybe Wednesday could be batman’s butler, Alfred Pennyworth.

With Saturday, Friday, Thursday and Wednesday all fully covered, I guess I am still left with that Monday and its dour twin Tuesday. Like Monday, there is really nothing to talk about when it comes to Tuesday. If anything, Tuesday and Monday are at the bottom heap of the weekday’s thrills and spills.

Monday may as well not exist and let Tuesday double up for it. After Sunday, we may as well call it Tuesday (instead of Monday), which is then immediately followed by the next day called Tuesday again. 

However way you see it, Tuesday is neither Monday nor Wednesday. It is like an appendix hanging between the colon of boring Monday and perky Wednesday.  At times, this appendix swells and bursts and you get not only a mundane Tuesday, you also get a messy one. So, Monday and Tuesday should get a room together and together they can start a family of doom and gloom.

I think I am getting a little tired now on this dreary Sunday night, whose bummer of a neighbor is Monday and Tuesday. The way I see it, I think every Sunday is a mixed bag of morning cruising and nocturnal bruising. And this wet Sunday night of March is no exception.

In a way, I think Sunday suffers from split personality. It starts off with morning gladness but as evening comes, and night draws near,  Sunday mutates into a chimera with a Sunday head, Monday body and a Tuesday tail. Mm…strange imagination I say.

So I guess before I go to sleep now, I should give Monday and Tuesday a break, right? And a hearty one at that. Maybe I am too hard on them. Maybe they deserve an earnest mental reappraisal. You see, without Monday or Tuesday, I don’t think I will enjoy the rest of the week that much. Imagine how fun will the down-slope of a roller coaster be without its up-riding part?

I know Monday and Tuesday may be unexciting but they are nevertheless there to guide me to the rest of the week. And in a magical, somewhat inspiring way, they are the first days of the week and if I don’t do them right, the rest of my week is going to be basically screwed.

I guess with hindsight, I shouldn’t judge a day by the order it appears in the week. I should instead treat each day like a Sunday, where I can experience many days in one, and I should then take my time to learn from each day like an apprentice would learn from his master. Isn't Sabbath an ideal day to be with the Creator of all days?

Maybe the right way to view a day is to see each day as an indispensable part of a full week and then take the time to enjoy and learn from it. Here, as I end, I recall a saying that life is sometimes more generous to us than we realize. And I guess such generosity can happen to us at any time of any day, even on a Monday. Cheerz.