I’ve been worrying about Thursday since Wednesday – which isn’t far out of line as I’ve christened Wednesday as Chaotic Wednesday and some slop in mulling is allowed. Yea, necessary.
But, here I am, Thursday morning, mulling a christening for a Thursday category.-
Thursday’s are That Day. They aren’t the weekend. They’re not mid – week, they’re not paydays, they’re not . . . Well, they’re just not. So what does one call Thursday’s, other than Thursday’s, and what astounding events occur on Thursday’s.
I mean, really.
I’ve thought to call them Mundane Thursday’s. That didn’t seem right, some how. Although they do seem rather pabulum in nature, almost as if with nothing else to achieve, work intrudes and work will get done, if for no other reason than it is the only thing left – unless one reviews his small black book weeding out the coyote ugly possible dates to request for Friday night or perhaps a weekend get away to a favorite Spa somewhere.
Having re-read the ending of the paragraph above I believe that Thursdays cannot bring about review of ones black book. The simple act of selecting dates on such a calculating basis is contrary psyche.
Having brought up psyche, I was forced to review, through dictionary reference, the various parts of the psyche. The Id I was okay with. Even the Ego was alright. It was that Superego I couldn’t deal with. Not even.
Reading about Id, I got to thinking about human sexuality. Specifically, about the way the sexes seem to think about, um, the act. The military mind might say, I’d screw a rock pile if I thought there was a snake in it. And on the feminine side there’s the He wants what’s down there, what I’m sitting on, he’s my meal ticket, I have a ring in his nose.
Well, I’m thinking about Thursday’s. Not payday’s, not sex days, not weekends, not really anything days.
Mulling then, yields Thursdays as an indecisive day.
So, Indecisive Thursday, it is. I’ll be able to write about all my worldly woe’s, trials, tribulations, observations and . . . well, whatever.
From the reaches,