There’s much ado about Sunday Scaries, but with six other days of the week, I don’t think it makes sense to fixate on just ONE DAY, ONE FEELING. Especially when it’s riddled with anxiety. It occurred to me the power we give Sunday Scaries, simply by virtue of it being alliterative. Oh, please! The oldest and most cliché trick in the book. But if that’s what works, then I’m leaning in. All the way in. Stupidly far in, to the point where I may topple over myself and into my hot soup. Who’s with me?
Ah, the character we all know and love to hate. That tight feeling as the day drags on and we realize that Monday is coming, Monday is imminent, Monday is upon us. And boy, do we hate Mondays, amirite Garfield?
It’s a precarious feeling of time wasted, of promise unfulfilled, of freedom squandered. But what if you just let go of your dread and embraced the endless meaninglessness of days, weeks, time, and life? Or what if you just found a job that you like? Perhaps Sunday would be a little less scary.
On Mondays, you compare yourself to the beautiful, virginal, pure, and innocent. It’s a fruitless exercise in comparison, which we all know is the thief of joy. So, here you are, practically giving away your happiness in a Cyber Monday fire sale.
Now, I’m from New Jersey, so I don’t pronounce “tarry” in a way that rhymes with “Mary” or “Scary,” but let’s pretend for a second that my schwa is your schwa. Tuesday is a day for tarrying. For staying put. For lingering. Like how you people outside of the Tri-State Area pronounce the unstressed central vowel /ə/.
Tuesday is a day to sit at a cafe for too long. To stay irresponsibly late at a friend’s house. Don’t rush about and skip ahead. Don’t be forced to comply with polite, time-bound expectations for how long things should take. Do them at your own speed. Don’t take shortcuts. Don’t be such a goddamn capitalist, would you? Time isn’t always money! Tarry, for chrissake.
For those who don’t get enough terror and anxiety on Sunday, we introduce a day in the middle of the week for wariness. Yet another great opportunity to freak out at the passage of time. It’s no longer Hump Day, but instead a day to realize that half your week is gone, and/or that you still have half a week to go. You, riddled with guilt and stomach knots, are wary of everything in all directions. You realize this is no way to live, but gosh, that alliteration sure is cute.
A day to spend pondering how the grass is always greener. You’re not in the present moment. You’re not here. You’re over there somewhere. And you spend the entire day pining, wishing you were elsewhere.
Okay, now this is a day we can all get down with. A day for magical, whimsical wonder. For big dreams and frivolity, all in one teeny, adorable, virtually weightless body. You’re floating. You’re sparkling. You’re sure this feeling will last forever.
A time to do whatever you want. Relax a little! Stare at the wall. Stare out the window. Stare at a hot stranger across the room at a bar. Go nuts! Let your eyes do the talking. Visualize success. Visualize the life you want to lead. Visualize the word visualize. It looks weird, right? Wow, that’s a weird word. So many vowels. And the ‘s’ is more like a ‘zh’ sound. How does that even happen?