Wednesday’s Lament

wednesdaylament

The days of the week sat in a circle. It was yet another meeting but not all that much seemed to have changed since last time. The room was the same slightly musky basement-level multi-purpose space, the one with rows that plastic-covered fluorescent tubes tried their best to buzz light into, and the bulletin boards held way too many flyers and ratty old notices if anyone bothered to read them anymore.  The long folding table at the back was way too big to hold the deli platter brought by Thursday, next to the napkins and paper cups and droning monotone of the water cooler.

Saturday was bouncing slightly to some unseen tune as he perused the offering of deli meats and cheese wedges, until Monday finally had to say something to call everyone’s attention.

“Look, we might as well get started,” he tried not to move too much to make his folding chair squeak.

“Don’t we have a holiday?” Saturday asked, his napkin loaded down with only slightly more meats than necessary. “I thought we were going to skip this meeting.”

“It’s always a holiday for you, I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Wednesday said. “Do you know how long I have to wait for a holiday?”

Tuesday and Thursday, seated side by side as always, nodded in unison to each other.

“Oh-kay, *Whines*-day,” Saturday rolled his eyes. Friday laughed at the joke, suddenly and hard, looking among the group for commiseration, especially with Saturday. Saturday pursed his lips, just to acknowledge Friday’s attempt at being him, but sunk into his chair. Sunday looked up suddenly as if wondering if he should have been paying attention.

“See?” Wednesday said, “This is what we were talking about before, about respect?” Then, taking inspiration from a new thought, he shot his hand in the air, “You know what? New business. I move to add to the agenda.”

Saturday groaned the loudest, through the murmur of small protests.     

“What is it this time?” Monday asked. His natural professionalism nearly cracked, and remained strained, at best.

“Rearrange the schedule,” Wednesday said. “Move me between Saturday and Sunday.” This led to a new round of protests, much more vocal this time. Except from Tuesday and Thursday. They exchanged a look that held a small thrill, and brought their hands together.

“Well, that’s simply not going to work,” Monday sat back in his chair. He had given up on the clipboard he had brought.

“No, really,” Wednesday went on, “Think about it. I’m already in the middle of the week. Now, I’d just be in the middle of the weekend!”

Friday was blown away. Saturday, however, was indignant. “So, what, there’s like three days in a weekend then? Are you trying to be a weekend, now?”

“Well, I don’t know.”

“I don’t think you could handle that. You are clearly not weekend material.”

Sunday too a deep breath in order to sigh “I really don’t want to be after him.”

“I could be a weekend,” Wednesday said, but his voice had weakened a lot from his initial passion.

Friday still grasped at the concept, pointing at Saturday. “Then *you* would be like *me* for *you.*”

“Oh my god,” Saturday nearly flailed for dramatic flair. “Wednesday you’re so got to get ahold of yourself. The weekends are already set.”

“Get a hold of myself? You don’t even know. Everyone *likes* you. Everyone’s cool with Saturday. Saturday’s *fun,* Whoo-hoo. Saturday. When people think of *me,* they groan and sigh and say stuff like ‘Oh, it’s only *Wednesday,* and call me Hump Day. They just can’t wait to get rid of me.”

“People thank *God* for me,” Friday whispered to Sunday. “Ha!” Sunday nearly snorted. “I *am* the Lord’s day.”

Monday picked up after Wednesday’s rant. “Oh, it’s so hard to be you. Did you ever consider *my* situation? Do you honestly know what it’s like to *follow* after those guys? And you think you have it bad. Who do you think is the only truly hated one here? Honestly, the one people truly hate?” Monday raised his hand to answer his own question.

“At least you can join them more often than not. What is a three-day weekend without Monday?”

“Ooh, I love three-days,” Friday chimed in.

“Fine,” Monday threw his hands up. “Let’s just upend our whole schedule just so you can feel like people like you a bit better. Who’s next? Friday, you want to start us off? Sunday, you want to switch with Tuesday, instead? Hell, let’s just get rid of Thursday altogether!”

Tuesday and Thursday gasped and reached out to one another.

“Oh, please,” Monday continued. “It’s not like you really do anything on your own anyway. It’s always Tuesday AND Thursday, isn’t it?”

Thursday demurred, sinking into himself.

“Friends, friends,” Sunday rose slowly, reaching out. “You guys are failing to realize how important Wednesday really is. We need a balance. Two weekdays on either side of you, with one weekend day at the end of the week and another weekend day on the other. Only Wednesday in the middle.” Sunday put his palms together in front of his lips. “Symmetry.”     

Sunday added in the quiet space, “Be Wednesday.”

“Fine,” Wednesday said after a moment, in a tone that wasn’t. “You guys are impossible.”

Saturday laughed. “Bro, I gotta introduce you to February. You’re going to love that guy.”

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