Mondays has that dreadful beginning of the work week feel, like the starting line of a marathon, and all one can see is the long track of black top laid out before them, going on into the distance and having it seems, no end. Especially the mornings of Monday, that pre work jittery feeling, that only a good cup of coffee and a danish can cure. That's why I recommend eating something sweet on Mondays, to make the day a little sweeter. Tuesdays have a similar feel. Except that you are in full swing of the marathon, you're already tired but still have twenty miles to go.
Tuesdays might even be worse than Mondays, because at least on Mondays you have something sweet to eat. Tuesday sweets are not recommended since to many sweets makes one fat.
Wednesdays have that hump day feel, especially at the end of the day. The beginning of the day has the climbing the mountain feel, but as the day wears on, the peak gets closer and one can sense its presence.
Thursdays are the start of bliss, but not the full on bliss one might experience at a party, or summer get together, no it is a mixed feeling, one of expectation yet one that also knows there are two more days to go. I recommended eating something sweet on Thursdays as well, to help balance that loathing, blissful feeling.
Fridays ARE full on bliss, nothing in the world matters, it's Friday for Gods sake. Oh, if only everyday could be Friday, things might actually get done, and get done with a joyful expectation. Fridays do tend to have a rough finish however, like someone who has to jump that last hurdle right near the end of a race, when there is barely any strength to do so, and all one can see is the finish line, the ribbon, the flowers the collapse. This usually makes one irritated, knowing that the day might drag on a little longer, and of not beating the Friday traffic.
Saturdays are the day everyone swears they will sleep in, catch up on some good ol shut eye, but rarely does one do so, there is to much to do, especially during the summer months. There is the beach, the park, the museum, the camping trip, etc. etc. Saturdays are the fun day, spending time with family, the kids, your sweet heart, making up for lost time that the work week has stolen from us. However this is where another part of the day comes into play, the Saturday night, where family and friend visits can run late into the evening and no one cares, there's nothing to do tomorrow, lets keep hanging out, wish this night would never end. But usually around two a.m. Or so, someone does remember that there is something to do tomorrow, if one is in the habit of going to church on Sundays.
Sundays, the wake up is good, one realizes he has another whole day of no work. And since they didn't make it home until around three a.m. Church is abruptly put off until next week, I promise Lord! Sundays are usually the day one actually sleeps in, with noon being the average rousing time. When realizing they have slept until noon, they begin dreading, knowing they have slept half the day away. By then it's one p.m. And depending on the time of year, the day splits into two branches. For winter months, there is football, even women loving a good game, rooting for the home team. This lasts until eleven p.m. That evening, with the one oclock game, the four oclock game, and the eight oclock game. With only a brief interval in between to make it to your parents house for Sunday dinner. Around eight p.m however, the Monday dreading begins, like someone who knows the rat race will resume again tomorrow. Butterflies fill the stomach, others talk, but all you can hear is that darn alarm going off at five a.m., six if your lucky. By nine your usually on your way home from families house, make it in around 9 thirty. This is the moment people wish it were Saturday night again. The house feels like it's closing in on you, it feels serene and empty, a lot like your life, which seems to revolve only around work, work, work. Of course this is nothing more than irrational foreboding, the hesitant dread of the imminent Monday. This feeling may be worse than the actual Monday itself, as one tosses and turns and watches the quick revolving clock. Why oh why does the time seem to fly by on Sunday nights? And then, just as you have dosed off to that beautiful dream world, where the sky is the limit and there are no duties, that darn alarm blares, waking you to an anxious arousal.