Something there is that doesn't love a [Tuesday]

If Robert Frost were a modern day office worker, metaphorically fenced in by the standard work week and not actually fenced in by a stone wall, I think his poem Mending Wall might have turned out a little differently.

I’m convinced that something there is that doesn’t love a Tuesday.

I don’t know about all of you, but the hardest day of the week for me is Tuesday. Most Mondays, I have a little residual glow from the weekend. I’m happy enough and not too worried about slogging through the whole work week. By Wednesday, I’ve accepted my lot. The week’s halfway over, so what’s the point in making a fuss? Thursday (or Friday-lite as I call it), is my favorite day of the week. I’m on the cusp of the weekend, the end is nigh so my spirits are always lifted, regardless of what trials I face at the office:

[Scene: the office printer]

Printer: Print toner low. Please replace.

Me: Oh. Hell. No. [Remeber it's Thursday.] Okay.

And Friday is the weekend as far as I am concerned and my productive will attest to that.  

But Tuesday grates. On Tuesday, any glow from the previous weekend has worn off and the next weekend still seems far away. And in that empty space between Monday’s residual glow and Wednesday’s flicker of hope is where my Existential Crisis starts to take root.

Depending on where I am emotionally, my Tuesday Existential Crisis can be as mild as an over-analyzing what my choice in lunch side says about me (Why do I order salad if what I really want is chips? Why can’t I actually want to order the salad!?) … or a downward spiral that leaves me wondering where my life is going, with the sinking feeling that the answer to that question is precisely nowhere. It’s dangerous. If I’m lucky, I’m able to pull myself out of it by the end of the work day. If not, you’re likely to find me in bed in my darkened room eating frozen cookie dough and watching re-runs of MTV’s True Life online, lamenting both my inability to be as happy-go-lucky as the ladies from True Life: I’m a Jersey Shore Girl and that the cookie dough is going straight to my thighs, ack!

Basically, every Tuesday I feel like a Cathy cartoon, but sadder and not nationally syndicated. When Tuesday rolls around, Wednesday can’t come soon enough.