To Tuesdays

I love the sound of you: Tuuuuessssdaaaaay. The hard “te” sound dropping and caught in the glove of the “u”, sliding through the “s” and landing in the “day”. Does “Saturday” sound as pretty? As complex and alluring?

You are the most zen of days. I’ve gotten past the disappointment of Sunday night, the clumsiness of Monday, and with you, I am on the optimistic side of the week. I will follow where the day goes, where the week goes and it will all be copacetic. We got this.

You are the day of decisions. Good decisions are never made on Wednesday, when the fatigue of the two days behind and the work of the two days ahead clouds every choice. Friday decisions are the most regrettable. I am in my best mind with you.

Ruby Tuesday, Taco Tuesday, Tuesday Weld, I will gladly pay you Tuesday, Super Tuesday, Tuesday’s child is full of grace, Fat Tuesday, President Truman’s “Meatless Tuesdays” when we would all avoid beef to aid the war in Europe. Tuesdays would save lives.

Give me a Tuesday any day.