I wke up tday and thught it was Wednesday.

I lked up at the ceiling and said, “Is it Wednesday?” I thught certainly it was.

I gt ut f bed and walked t my dr, sure f this idea that tday was Wednesday. My hand turned the drknb and then I realized that it was Tuesday. I felt sad. I was unsure why.

I had n plans fr Wednesday. Nthing exciting was t happen. I suppse I just wanted it t be Wednesday. ne day clser t Friday.

Wh came up with the wrk-week? Decided that Wednesday wuld be Hump Day. Why 40 hurs each week? 40 hurs devted, n, wasted at a place that I did nt like. 40 hurs. Think f hw much I culd d with thse 40 hurs that I pretended t wrk at my wrkplace. I culd paint, I culd write mre, I culd d mre f what I wanted, f what made me happy. 40 hurs f happiness.

40 hurs.

I was still standing there, caught between my bedrm and my bathrm, my thughts and the awful reality that tday was nly Tuesday.

I wish it was Wednesday.

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