It occurred to me last week that, just as Thursday is so hopeful because it’s almost Friday, and Wednesday is so hopeful because it’s so close to such a hopeful day as Thursday, so does Tuesday have its own intrinsic redeeming quality: Tuesday is the Hump Day to the Hump Day.
On Tuesday at noon you can say it’s practically Wednesday, which is itself practically Friday if for no other reason than its calenderial nearness to Thursday (which is just another way of saying Almost Friday), and by this reasoning the only day of the week at all with absolutely no redeeming qualities whatsoever is, of course, that dastardly dogged Monday.
I expressed this theory to my husband, a wannabe optimist (What is a wannabe optimist, you ask? A wannabe optimist is pretty much exactly what it sounds like: a person who knows he should be optimistic because all the most successful people in life are optimists, and because everybody likes being around the guy who’s always got some positive cheery outlook to put on life, but at the same time feels the regular, yes I said regular, struggle to dredge up such exhausting crumbs of pep from the average daily grind, so in the end these positive cheery quips actually sound forced and contrived rather than truly genuinely optimistic, and of which the wannabe optimist would say Well, at least it’s better than nothing.), and here was his response:
— There is too something good about Monday.
— I don’t believe it.
— It’s true. I like Mondays.
— How is that even possible? Mondays are the worst.
— I like Mondays because…well…because they’re the first day of the week for me to get up and get going and earn money.
— … You cannot possibly be serious right now.
— Oh, but I am.
— You like Mondays because you can earn money on them?
— Yep. And money allows me to do great things like eat food and buy remote control race cars.
— I don’t even have a response for that.
Yet for all my incredulous cynicism, it is in the end exactly this attempt—pitiful though it may seem—to put a positive spin on even Mondays that makes me love the man. It takes a very real dedication to fake optimism to come up with that. Not just any wannabe-optimist could pull it off. I declare that I married the very best, most stalwart wannabe-optimist there ever was. I am the luckiest cynic alive, and I say that with actually not an ounce of cynicism…not even the subconscious kind.
And the best part is he actually believes that Mondays aren’t that bad.
I think it’s sweet.
photo credit: bubbo.etsy.com via photo pin cc
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