For whatever reason lately, people have had the thick-witted idea that I’d be a good source for advice when it comes to their lives. Sure, these people have no idea that I once chased a shot of Wild Turkey with A1 Sauce and that I lost my old Blackberry swimming in Lake Michigan the night before a Kid Rock concert. But whatever. If you’re asking, I’m responding.
Today was awful. As I sat at my desk trying to work, all I could think was, “This is pointless. I’m just going to have to re-do everything I did today because I’m a mindless simpleton who has a borderline alcohol problem between Friday and Monday.” I immediately started wondering why the hell I don’t just take Mondays off.
But as I started to think about how nice it would be to take Mondays off and get my life together after a long weekend, the devil on my other shoulder was all like, “Are you kidding? Why not take Fridays off and get your weekend started earlier?” I started playing mental ping-pong with myself to the point where I had no idea which way was up.
Unfortunately, my company won’t let me do a four-day work week so this shouldn’t even matter, but here’s my question: if you had a four-day work week, would you rather take Fridays off or Mondays off?
Alright, I’ve never had a four-day week either, but I have gone on individual streaks of taking both Mondays and Fridays off. The past few summers, I’ve taken every Friday off and used it to play golf while the course was empty. Throughout the winters, I’d spend Mondays laying down fresh ski tracks without a bunch of little rugrats doing pizza-turns as I careened down the hill.
If I wasn’t golfing on Fridays, I was sitting at the pool listening to reggae music, pretending to read golf books on my iPad, and convincing my friends to either 1) take Mondays off with me or 2) grab lunch with me and con them into drinking beers in a desperate attempt to get them to skip the rest of the day. Then, once 5 o’clock hit — BOOM! — I was living another Friday with everyone who had just spent their entire workday pent up like bulls before the running in Pamplona. Not only had I knocked out my Thursday hangover, but I was bronzed and ready to tear shit up.
My Mondays though? Whole different beast. I was either being Dad Will and taking care of all the chores and responsibilities I had ignored over the weekend, or I was chillin’ the most on the couch trying to rid myself of the Sunday Scaries (because Mondays were now my Sundays). Sure, I got to catch the Monday Premier League games, do laundry, and go to the store for a bunch of healthy food in a desperate attempt to try to feel normal again. Lame? Yes. Responsible? Unquestionably.
What I discovered through all of this was that both were viable options for getting your head straight. While Fridays were like a “vacation,” Mondays were like “paid time off” used for something other than enjoying yourself. Sure, they both get your head straight, but for definitively different reasons.
When I was 23, having Fridays off was amazing. The fun part of my weekend was extended, I had buddies around, and I could sustain a weekend of partying that lasted from Thursday night to Sunday night without wanting to kill myself.
But, at 28, things have changed. Starting a weekend on Thursday is pretty much just me committing to be a hungover zombie come Sunday, and then feeling the ill effects of the weekend until Wednesday when I suddenly think, “Man, I feel great — what are we doing this weekend?” It would put my body through the wringer so with regret in my voice, I think I gotta take Mondays off because I’m an aging piece of shit who would rather feel like his life is together rather than get drunk on a Thursday.
I hate myself too. .
Got a question? Email firstname.lastname@example.org and I’ll attempt to either solve all of life’s problems or lead you to a life where you spend every Sunday questioning your existence.