Aging Writer Discovers That It’s Still Tuesday

Damn.

I had such high hopes. But, it would appear that Tuesday's arrival is fact. I’m still recovering from Monday, and at this point it appears that this week is never going to end. My sense of frustration over it not even being Wednesday yet, at the very least, shows up in all I try to accomplish. It’s depressing…

I’m trying to fight the feeling that this week may in fact last forever, a sentiment further compounded by the thought of all the work I’m leaving to be done tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and, if I make it that far, possibly even Friday, for Christ's sake. Sometimes it seems like the week is going backwards.

Not only do I have most of Tuesday morning left to contend with, but all of Tuesday afternoon and then Tuesday night. If my calculations are correct, we are actually closer to last weekend than the one coming up. 

This must be some kind of sick joke. I’ve already made quite a few attempts to make the morning go faster, such as glancing at my watch or wall clock every other minute, compulsively checking my e-mail, hiding in the office bathroom, fidgeting, or reading some boring trade magazine have also proven unsuccessful. Actually, I suspect but cannot prove that someone has slowed or otherwise tampered with Tuesday's progression.

Why do we even have Tuesday, anyway? It’s no more than a Monday redundancy or pre-Wednesday. I’m doing my best to cope with the interminable week, though Tuesday is still hours away from ending. The more I try to speed it along, the longer it seems to take. Honestly, today could not have come at a worse time this week.

In the meantime, my latest wristwatch consultations indicate that it is somehow still Tuesday, if that makes any sense at all…

Damn.