There’s something very odd and unsettling about Tuesday night. It’s the kind of night they do road-works because they know no one will complain all that much. It’s the kind of night when they put their second best shows on television. It’s the kind of night where you might have left-overs from last night’s dinner or buy something fatty and over-processed on the way home. It’s the kind of night where you might go on a blind date (or an internet date) with someone you’re not all that serious about. There’s something about a Tuesday night which says “I don’t care all that much….”
I noticed it tonight in the Crown Street restaurants of Surry Hills. Lots of couples, but not all that much intimacy. Maybe they were couples who no longer felt the need for those public displays of affection. I reckon though, they were “internet dates”, just not very serious ones. I think to choose a Thursday, Friday or Saturday night to meet up means you’re serious about the possibility of a relationship. You’re hopeful the Friday night date will turn into a Saturday lunch or a walk in the park, or maybe a movie, and then brunch on Sunday. There’s something about a Tuesday night internet date though, which means you’re saying to the other person you’re not really serious, unwilling to commit yourself to meeting them on one of the “more important” nights of the week.
I also felt the “who cares” factor as I wandered around the supermarket tonight. First and foremost, I noticed the quality of fruit and veg was very poor, leading me to believe it was probably left-overs from the weekends, ahead of tomorrow’s big delivery. Yes, I’m sure that’s how it was when I worked for Coles New World all those years ago. Gazing into shopping baskets of those beside me in the queue, there was no evidence of “the weeks big shop” that you would associate with the weekend. There was also no evidence of the “fresh is best” approach you would associate with a Monday night, a fresh start, a detox. No the shopping baskets were full of lots of processed food, high in fat, comfort food. Two women in the queue next to me had about half a dozen “chick flick” DVDs in their basket, leading to a minor debate about whether or not they were a good purchase. It was resolved pretty quickly. “Hang the expense” I heard one of them say.
As I got closer to home I overheard another conversation, between a young woman and I assume her parents. “Well that’s another birthday over and done with”, I heard mum say. “Yep, you’re right there”, the daughter replied.
Even now, as I begin to watch “Big Brother Up Late” they’re all just sitting around, bored senseless. Mind you, with BB, that could be any night of the week.
But you see what I mean? The weekend is over, and Tuesday night is now about as far away as it could possibly be from another weekend. I mean, I know Wednesday is officially half way between Sunday and Saturday, but it’s made easier because it’s “hump day”, the day that you need to get over, and once you do, you’re on the roller-coaster again.
Tuesday night. Meh.
Brief excerpt of Peter Joback singing “I Don’t Care Much” from the CD “Storybook”
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