If something bad is going to happen to me, odds are it’s going to happen on a Wednesday. This much begrudged day of the week has wreaked so much havoc on the human race that it has been dubbed “hump day.” We all have to find our way over the hump week-in and week-out. Even the early Israelites had to wander through forty years of Wednesdays to get to the Promised Land. Our first order of business is to find a way to bury the hatchet toward this much maligned day of the week. Let me show you how.
Last Wednesday I was out for a jog on a gorgeous day. The sun was out and I tried to soak in as much of the beauty around me as possible. I was accompanied by my writer’s voice which reminded me of the usual difficulties that come with this particular day of the week. I tried to push any concerns aside in an attempt to just live in the moment. Still, it’s tough to live in the moment and just ‘be’ when a part of you is looking over your shoulders to see what the day might have in store for you.
It didn’t take long before my concerns were justified. At some point of time in the run, I was nearly run over by a biker. He came so close to me that I felt the wind off his bike. A couple minutes later, I felt droplets of water sprinkle down on me even though there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. I looked around to find a construction worker fifteen stories high wielding an empty bucket. He even had two accomplices at his side with smirks on their faces. They all politely waved and the man with the bucket yelled something in Dutch. For all I know he might have been swearing at me. Yet, it all seemed so comical that I couldn’t help but laugh and smile back. I was polite about the whole encounter even if my writer’s voice had another say on the matter.
This brings me to the most important thing I would recommend on how to survive Wednesday; bury the hatchet. Put your contempt aside and try to see the silver lining in everything that comes your way on hump day. The fact of the matter is that we can’t control an idiot on a bike, the mischievous ways of construction workers, or the wind that carried the water some fifty feet off to the side.
I actually got a hardy laugh from the whole affair. More so, the wind not only carried the water but a dose of nostalgia wafted along with it.
The whole thing reminded me of My Uncle Ed. He was in the Navy during World War II and had a few war stories that my siblings, cousins, and I all lapped up. Of my mom’s four brothers, my dad, and my dad’s two brothers who served in the war, Uncle Ed was the only one who talked about his experiences there. He was an important link to our generation because most other World War II veterans thought it was a time better off forgotten.
One afternoon in the 1940’s, my uncle was sent to his ship’s crows nest to stand lookout for enemy activities. He felt fortunate beyond measure because the duty that day was otherwise cleaning and swabbing the decks. He relished the opportunity to sit on his butt while the rest of the sailors worked hard cleaning the ship. He sat smug in his compartment high above the sea before his perceived fortune turned on him. The seas were rough that day and whatever sway experienced on the deck was magnified 10 fold in the crows nest. He soon came down with a horrible case of seasickness as his shipmates cleaned the decks below him.
My Uncle Ed eventually couldn’t contain his nausea and hurled his lunch over the crows nest toward his shipmates below. He must of had his own version of a writer’s voice because he soon imagined the trouble he would be in with his superiors let alone shipmates when the remnants of his lunch dirtied the decks which had just been cleaned. Much to his surprise, the wind kicked up just at the last possible moment and carried his misfortune harmlessly out to the ocean.
I’m sure most people would presume that my uncle’s stroke of fortune happened on any other day of the week than hump day. Afterall, this day of the week has a way of adding insult to injury rather than turning our fortunes around. However, I’m beginning to see things differently now that I’ve buried the hatchet for Wednesdays.
I am now forever linked with my Uncle Ed because of last Wednesday. Whereas the universe helped him avert the ire of his superiors and shipmates with a well-timed wind, I was doused with water. But here’s the thing; it was an unusually hot day last Wednesday when I ran. Who’s to say the universe didn’t take care of me with some wind off the wayward biker and then, later, water from the construction workers. It might only be a matter of perspective that helps us survive Wednesdays.