On Thursday

 There are days of the week that are mysterious, if not mystical. Thursday is not one of them. I love Friday, but you have to get through Thursday to get there. "Thor's Day", the god of war, lightening, and thunder, seems problematic. Nobody needs a complicated Thursday. Your energy is down, your mood is wavering, you need a nap, and maybe a little peanut brittle would help. A nice glass of something on the rocks would also help sooth the nerves. Thursday is so very liminal--a space between a space, waiting to get to another place and time. It's as if it were a day-of-the-week with no identity. Even a chocolate covered doughnut will help. It's Tuesday's odd twin of a different mother. Thursday just drifts somewhere between Wednesday and Friday as it has no will of its own. You would never pick Thursday out of a line-up, but you never pick it for your war-ball team either. Thursday is that staff member whose name you never remember. Thursday is that weird jello dish that Aunt Tula makes with shrimp and celery and Cool Whip on top. Thursday is a dead car on the side of the road that has been tagged, but not towed. Thursday is a weird detour that gets you lost and does not lead to anywhere you want to go. Thursday is a cold, stale cup of coffee. It's not that I hate Thursday, but it feels like an extra day that doesn't work. A key that won't turn, a car that won't start, a burned out light bulb, a static-filled radio station, a jammed window. So if you find yourself out-of-sorts, forgetting people's names, getting the date wrong, late for an appointment, your stomach is upset and your head hurts, it's probably Thursday. Twist your ankle getting out of bed? Mismatched socks, no clean underwear, a flat tire, no coffee, overslept your alarm? It's probably Thursday.