I Hate Wednesdays.

Everyone has a favorite day of the week. For most of us it falls on a day that we don’t have to work and can just relax a little. Fridays, Saturdays, Sundays. Mine has always been Saturday. The day after a night of relaxation and the day before I have to start my pre-Monday stress/anxiety/agita/madness.

I never really disliked a day of the week until I was at my previous job. I remember there was a faculty discussion about Wednesday afternoons being the most difficult time  for our students in regards to their behavior and how can we come up with strategies to make the situation better.  (Apparently we had the most write ups, violent actions, and students sent down to the office on Wednesday afternoons.)

I guess I had never noticed there was just one bad day per week. At the time, every day seemed pretty terrible.  I was trudging through the halls on a cart, teaching in 27 different rooms, and  was experiencing at least one student meltdown per day. But after that meeting, I started to recognize other situations and tragic events that happened on Wednesdays.

I started to make a list in my head. A catalog of all of the terrible mid-week madness. Whether it was students acting out, people passing away, phone calls informing me of various tragedies, or just a fight with a friend, I knew them all. This was before the accident.

As you might have guessed by now, my car accident was on a Wednesday. Of course! Let’s perpetuate things! Why not?!

The result unfortunately is that each Tuesday evening I start to worry. I tell myself it all will be okay and try to relax. I try to think positively, but I often am unsuccessful and instead sit with an undertone of malaise.

I know it is a  by-the book self-fulfilling prophecy. But even when I am successful in getting away from those thoughts, I still hate Wednesdays.

It’s strange really since I survived on a Wednesday.

It will forever be known as the day I didn’t die (at least in my mind.)

Maybe I can spin that.



2 thoughts on “I Hate Wednesdays.

  1. That’s interesting. I always hate the 22nd of each month (although my accident was on the 23rd). My cousin died in an accident on the 22nd of August in 1992 when I was 12 (he was 14), and that’s until this day the worst day of my life. I am always relieved when the 22nd has passed, and the funny part is that I’m not even superstitious! Lol


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