Someone once told me that for them, the beginning of the year felt like standing at the foot of a huge mountain looking up; a scary, insurmountable obstacle, that filled them with fear and apprehension. (If that person is you, maybe don’t carry on, I’m about to get optimistic about your most dreaded time of year.) For me, it is quite the opposite. I feel I am at the top, ready to slide down on a mat of perfect sliding congruousness with the surface of said mountain. Weeeeeeeee!
I would like to start, appropriately, with the 1st of January, which every year has to be one of my favourite days for the following reasons:
- It’s the only completely guilt-free, lazy, hangover day of the year – I heart my hangover on the first of the first.
- You are allowed to watch terrible TV or films which make you feel better about yourself even in your pitiful state (the rest of the year when you watch stuff like this it makes you feel dirty inside).
- It is required of you to alternate between snoozing and snacking to maintain strength and subsequent enjoyment of this wonderfully distinguished day.
- All this is possible because you were supposed to get trollied last night – if you didn’t, you’re a loser (but you’re not, you’re a winner!) – and everyone you experience New Year’s Day with is graciously in a similar, somnolent, satisfied state (even if it’s your parents! Yay! (Hi mum and dad!)).
- It is the only day you can legitimately sit back and seize procrastination – you’ve been working for a whole year – productivity can take place tomorrow.
- The stress of the season is over and this is your treasured reward before normality returns.
- Christmas and New Year is done (don’t scrooge-accuse me, I happily participate, I’m just not that big a fan).
- Fresh start/new leafy type feelings arise.
- Days start getting longer (OK, technically this happens in December but this point adds a crucial third bullet to my waning list which is only here to build suspense for my ultimate theory below which is what I really want to talk about).
- January is the Wednesday of the year. Nope? OK, read on. (WARNING: this theory is largely weather-related so stop reading now if you are not British or cannot sympathise with the British obsession with meteorological (meaty-Eurological?) conditions in the Northern Hempisphere. (Have I lost all my readers? Good. Then I shall continue.))
As I was saying, January is the Wednesday of the year.
So what does this mean and why is it good? Well, imagine all the days of the week having a monthly associate. Does that make sense?
No? OK. Er… what if I said I see each month as having a kind of corresponding cousin in the weekly calendar. Are you with me? Is anybody left? Reader?
Let us start with Monday. Monday would have to be the most universally loathed day of the week, the day I match to September or October, when the summer/weekend is over and the long, hard winter/week is yet to be endured.
Not being Monday takes the edge off Tuesday. November and December are instead softened by time off work as well as Christmas and the associated festivities, but they’re also stressful, tiring and difficult to get through for many.
Wednesday is the turning point of the week, its correlating January and February the bridge between darkness and disappointment and the prospect of spring. However bad your week started, it’s all downhill from here.
Then before you know it, it’s Thursday, glorious Thursday, the day with the greatest promise of them all. The epitome of expectation. The antithesis of anticlimax. It’s related March and April tantilisingly close to the summer before the summer turns out to be shit. At this point we can even dismiss the weather forecasters: they can’t get it right two days in advance let alone two months, so whatever they say can be safely and stoutly ignored while we bask in the possibility we’ll have the greatest summer North West Europe has ever seen.
Friday, a popular choice for favourite-day-of-the-week is a great one, I am happy to concede. Like May, it brings the knowledge that lying seductively before us is the sexiest part of the week or year.
But when Saturday comes there are chores to do, obligations to meet, and the once exalted June and July have high hopes to live up to, that if dashed take the year down with them.
And finally Sunday, one of the scarce two when most of us don’t have to work, its corresponding August the month we often take holidays or time off: a seeming sanctuary of freedom and tranquility… yet as time ticks towards dusk, the last moments of your holiday or the remnants of the summer sun, the Sunday blues hit hard and its Monday morning all over again.
So, the moral of this story is this: enjoy January, the best is yet to come and always make fun plans for Monday night.