If Days of the Week Were People


Sometimes I like to think of the days of the week as people. Different personalities. Varying likeability. In my head I have elaborate relationships with each one. The relationships evolve as life does. For instance, Friday is my busiest day at work but it’s also the day that I do my most fulfilling work. So while I used to have to just “get through” Friday, now I enjoy the entire day. Sometimes I have an interaction with someone and I just can’t help but think to myself, “if she was a day of the week, she’d totally be Monday.”

It’s odd, yes. But hear me out.

Monday is the bank teller who goes on break when there are 6 people in line. She openly sees that people are waiting and instead strands her coworker in solitary misery. The line then takes 13 minutes longer and you ponder switching banks the entire time, later deciding that it isn’t worth the effort. Monday is rude and selfish and seems to sneak up on you and smack you in the face at every possible moment.

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Tuesday is the middle-aged guy who sits 7 cubicles away from you. Sure, he’s there. You occasionally brush shoulders at the water cooler. But mostly you just pass him in the halls.

Wednesday is the guy who you are pretty sure likes you but who takes two hours to respond to a text message. You get your hopes up. You are so close to thinking that it’s something. So close, yet so far away. Humpday is that horrible in between stage in the relationship where you just have no idea which way is up but you are hoping that you are getting to where you want to be (Friday).

Thursday is the acquaintance who you’d almost consider a friend. You’ve had dinner together with other friends before and you like her well enough, but she just isn’t quite bff material.


Friday is the guy you like who you know is into you. Your dinner dates are long and the conversation flows well after he’s paid the check. The waitress gives you the stink eye but you can’t fathom getting up and leaving. You’ve mentally tried on his last name and done the math for when your first child would be born. There’s just so much potential.

Saturday is the best friend you’re a little too comfortable around.The one who calls and two hours easily slips away. Then later you’re like, damn, what did we even talk about for two hours?

Sunday is a frenemy, through and through. Sure, she’s nice to your face. You get a little too cozy at brunch, spill a couple of secrets. But you just know that the little B will betray you. Because soon enough, it’ll be 8pm and you’ll be miserably cozy on your couch wondering how it was all over.

And with that, I’m fairly certain that the internet now thinks I’ve lost it. Hell, even I think I have a little bit. Does anyones else think like this?

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