I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “What could possibly be wrong with Tuesdays? Isn’t Monday the day everyone hates?”
Probably, yeah. Morrissey doesn’t hate Mondays, per se, but he definitely doesn’t like them. And that no-talent ass clown, Garfield, won’t shut up about how Monday’s an abomination.
My ex used to fall into a depression Sunday afternoons dreading the next day, and while I believe his pain was real, I also wonder if it’s just fashionable to sulk the first day of the work week.
Call me crazy, but I don’t see why I should take my marching orders from a cartoon cat from the ’80s who regularly gorges himself on lasagna. Garfield’s an idiot and I’m not a sheep; I’m a grown adult woman enjoying all the freedoms of being an American, we are all free to decide for ourselves which day of the week to hate on, and I choose to be staunchly anti-Tuesday. ‘Merica.
I’ve really put some thought into this and the fact is, I spend most of Monday wondering what’s even going on. The alarm goes off, so I know I have to get up and Frankenstein to the coffee pot, then to the shower, then to the car, and then into the office to type a bunch of stuff while listening to “Last Week Tonight.”
Nobody ever accuses me of having a case of the Mondays and that’s not because I’m working construction jobs with Peter Gibbons; it’s because I spend most of Monday half slumped in my chair typing, giggling at John Oliver while half asleep. I might even go so far as to say I find Mondays pleasant.
I dunno, maybe I’m still drunk from the weekend, but it just doesn’t get to me. By the time I’ve figured out I might wanna feel put out over not being pantsless in front of the television, it’s time to be pantless in front of the television again for Monday Night Football.
And seriously, let’s get down to brass tacks, gentlefolks: what does Tuesday even have going for it? You still have the rest of the week to work, deadly sober and without football.
When the alarm goes off Tuesday morning, I know exactly what’s going on and I don’t like it one bit. Unless you’re into open mic nights, I can’t think of a single redeeming quality Tuesday can claim as its own. And don’t give me that Taco Tuesday crap. You can eat tacos any day of the week. I’ve checked. In fact, I’m going to eat a taco right now and enjoy the hell out of it. Suck it, Tuesday.