Hump Day

It's the day that reminds you that you're half way through the week. Having a demanding career is often a Catch-22. Most days I feel so lucky to have such challenging daily duties and tasks. Some mornings I wish I had a mindless job, where I could just perform some inane routine without having to think too hard. Nine times out of ten, those some mornings are Wednesdays.

My perspective of the workweek is a little different from most. I don't dread Mondays and my favorite workdays are Thursdays.

I stopped dreading Mondays during my last year in North Carolina, which ended on July 31, 2006. I had been working two jobs that year to get out of some moderate debt and save money to move to New York City.

Monday meant that I only had to go to one job for the next four days. After awhile, the Monday through Friday, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. grind became very easy. At 5 p.m., I could go home and lounge for the remainder of the evening, watch TV or meet friends for dinner or drinks.

Thursday was my Friday. It was my last evening to myself before I had to add a 6 p.m. to 2 a.m. shift at a casino to my 8-hour day in higher education administration. I didn't often go out on Thursdays. I had to be in bed early in order to prepare myself for the subsequent 16-hour workday.

Saturdays were spent in a hang-over like blur. My throat was scratchy and sore from the cigarette and cigar smoke in the casino. I served drinks for another eight hours on Saturday nights and then spent Sundays in a coma.

In the summer, I decided I didn't work enough and I added a third job waitressing at a crab shack. I generally began to hate my life and sometimes lost sight of my goal. I couldn't wait for the day when I could finally say that it had all been worth it. It began to feel like that day would never come.

On July 31, in my final post as a resident of North Carolina, I wrote about the worth of that grueling year. Monetarily, it numbered in the tens of thousands (minus, of course, my annual living expenses and debt resolution). Emotionally, it numbered in all the ways I would be living my life in New York City.

Wednesdays can still be tough, but not as tough as they used to be amidst a 7-day workweek. For those who continue to work seven days a week, my heart goes out to them. For those who work seven days a week and support children, my heart breaks.

This post was more for myself than anyone else today. Today I needed my perspective to remind me how hard it was to get here and how much easier I have it now. Of course, living in New York City is not easy. In fact, it is very hard. Its streets are harsh, its weather is harsher. However, my perspective keeps me sane - though my view of the days of the week have changed a little.

Mondays are generally the end to a good weekend. And Thursdays mean that another good one might be on the way.