Wednesday’s child was full of woe. And Wednesday’s child was sure as ‘Sugar. Honey. Ice. Tea’, making sure everyone knew about it.
The Wi-Fi had gone down for a full 30 minutes yesterday and it was as if the world had actually come to and end for this twisting maelstrom of tempestuous teenage testosterone.
The real threat of becoming very, very sick paled into insignificance when TikTok was an unreachable platform for all of 1,800 seconds.
Wednesday had done its best to juggle work and family. This new framework was a work in progress. Dishes and clothes littered the counter tops and sullied the floors and Wednesday’s child had developed selective blindness to these obstacles.
Picking and choosing the whats and whens.
Wednesday used to be the popular one. Midweek knees ups. Friends with the weekly beginners as they finally kicked of work-based misery and began the slow trek to the weekend and where the shapely Friday waited - like Aslan...or anyone from a shampoo advert.
Resplendent and full of promise.
But in these new scenarios. A day was a day was a day was a day. But no one knew how to behave differently.
No adjustments to be made, thank you. Stay in lane.
Stay home.
Stay safe.
Others were not doing as they were told, of course; Monday had done a runner, we know of that already. And Tuesday’s attempts at trying on Saturday’s more ribald attitude had landed her in the slammer for a couple of days and being saddled with a hefty fine.
Sunday would sort that. Accounts got done on Sunday.
Normally.
Thursday was not returning calls or messages.
The ticks were blue, they HAD been read.
No, Wednesday would stick to the script. As best as was possible anyway.
Under stimulated and chemically imbalanced, the teenage beast was at least for now in the depths of a silent slumber. Hidden in the dark. Coiled in the lair.
Wednesday could get ahead of a few things before, like a surly Godzilla, the child was stomping on stairs, slamming through doors, lobbing books and throwing looks that could kill.
There would be a further 5,400 seconds until the footfall shook the rafters and Wednesday intended to enjoy every last one of them.
Wednesday peeked from behind the blinds. Sunshine, light breeze. Perfect for a jog.
Instead, Wednesday grabbed the remote, slumped on the couch, flicked on the news and took in the state of the new world address.
Apples and trees.
Under stimulated and overly caffeinated, Wednesday viewed how people had ‘turned’ for every ‘nice’ there were a thousand ‘nasties’.
And Wednesday sighed.
And Wednesday sulked.
5,040 seconds remained.
