Monday – After two days of sleeping in, the alarm on my phone goes off. Someone will mention that it’s Monday in a group text, and of course, when I log into my work computer, I have new email. Plus, I can check the date on the screen. This is my weekly 1:1 video-conference check in day with my boss, so it’s also a reminder to wash my hair. I unload, then reload the dishwasher. I look at what’s going to go bad soonest, and that’s dinner. There's only so many ways to eat smoked sausage. I miss salmon. And I don't even like salmon.
Tuesday – I very often mistake for Monday because there are more emails than when I logged in the day before. I rely on Facebook and Instagram for Taco Tuesday mentions. We’re not having tacos, because I forgot to order tortillas. I unload, then reload the dishwasher. This is also the day that I can pick up produce from my neighborhood coffee shop (like you do, now) if I remembered to order it on a Friday. This is my departmental group video-conference meeting day, so if I didn’t wash my hair yesterday, today I really, really need to do that before people see me.
Wednesday – Hump day. I unload, then reload the dishwasher. People text me camel emojis and gifs. This is the day I’m least likely to know, because I only have one standing meeting every other week, and honestly, these days, Wednesday seems like an artificial hump. When you can wear shorts and a t-shirt every day, the whole TGIF thing seem like more of an artificial construct. I’m often likely to mistake this day for a Thursday, Watching more live TV might help. Instead, I’m working my way through Cheers, via streaming. The show really holds up. There is a strong chance that the Amazon items I purchased over the weekend will arrive, but our delivery is always in the evening, so by then, I have hopefully already figured out it’s Wednesday.
Thursday – My new hump day. It’s not going to catch on, but this is now the new, actual mid-week. I have therapy every other Thursday. Now it’s by video chat. Another day where I want clean hair and a clean, nicer shirt. Don’t want the therapist to worry, do we? So, that means I will be taking the call from the comfort and privacy of my carfice (car/office). That makes Thursday the ideal day to pick up my groceries curbside – the stuff I don’t get from my coffee shop, that is. I have no standing work meetings on Thursday. Is my husband drinking salsa late at night? Signs point to yes. Whatever. I unload, then reload the dishwasher. Also, if I hear the garbage truck, it’s Thursday.
Friday – Even though my life feels pretty Fridayish most of the time now, there’s still a decent amount of joy surrounding the end of the work week. Slate has it's news quiz up - last week, I got 11 out of 12 questions right, and was therefore deemed smarter than writer William Saletan. Go, me. I unload, then reload the dishwasher. Friday has become the default day for virtual lunch with colleagues. This is the one video chat where I come as I am, though I have learned that wearing reading glasses gives my otherwise pudding-like features some definition. The other day, I wore green lipstick on two video-calls to see if anyone would notice. The first make-up I’ve worn in over a month. Nobody noticed. There’s a fifty percent chance it’s a pay day, which helps.
Saturday – My alarm doesn’t go off. That narrows it down to one of two days. I haven’t been to Trader Joe’s since February. That used to be a Saturday thing. I also used to say, “I’m at Home Depot, so it must be Saturday.” Now, Saturdays are for putting away laundry (in theory – it still tends to sit in piles just as much as it did before), napping, and getting further into Cheers. I unload, then reload the dishwasher. We discuss ordering pizza, but don’t. At some point, I panic, thinking it’s Sunday. It’s not. I can tell because we got mail. Unless we just forgot to get the mail yesterday. I text my best friend for a reality check, and she assures me that her life, like mine, is chaos. Pretty sure my husband is not only drinking salsa, but going on massive pickle benders late at night. I'm OK with that.
Sunday – No mail, feels like a Saturday. The comic strips are longer today. There’s a new Doonesbury. Inexplicable craving for brunch. Sound of lawn mowers and leaf blowers prominent. I unload, then reload the dishwasher. Time to buy something on Amazon. We could use some Drano, right? I cook something time consuming, and at some point, question whether it’s Saturday or Sunday. It’s Sunday. Did I feed the dog? I think so. I unload and reload the dishwasher. I don't think I fed the dog. I'm going to give her a half portion, just in case. Should I make bread? I'm in part responsible for the yeast shortage. I should make bread. Or I could have a nap.
*BTW, I called it - this is a McSweeney's Said No.