Monday is your new Saturday morning, the start of the weekend. Once your kids are at school, you have a lazy morning of self-care (clearing your inbox) followed by brunch with friends (an all-hands meeting in the conference room with stale bagels). You round out the afternoon by spending time in nature (dozing off in a desk salad).

Tuesday is Saturday afternoon. After a slight interruption to your weekend (Monday evening with your kids), you’re ready to get back to the fun. You host a boozy book club (your colleague stops by your desk to comb through the latest all-company memo for hints that layoffs are coming). Tired, you decide to take in a matinee (mandatory webinar on cybersecurity).

Wednesday is spa day (pooping in the office bathroom stall with no interruptions). You deserve it!

Thursday, you have a sunny date in the park (meeting with HR to discuss an unfortunate misunderstanding of your office’s policy against filling the bathroom with lighted candles). Against a soundtrack of soft jazz music (buzzing fluorescent lightbulb and stern reprimands), you feel your stress melt away.

Friday is the new Sunday Scaries (chilling knowledge that you will spend an uninterrupted two days and three nights with your loved ones).

Saturday is Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday crammed into twenty-four hours. Your responsibilities include wiping butts, driving inexplicably angry people to soccer games and gymnastics events that happen at the same time in different places, and repeating yourself. Your work will often crawl into bed with you after you think you’ve clocked out. You are paid in bad artwork that you are contractually obligated to display. Also, new Saturdays still include old Saturday night bar fights (between your children, who attended yet another birthday party and are drunk off apple juice boxes).

Sunday is Wednesday (except Wednesday now lasts three weeks and involves picking up vomit).

NOTE: If your children contract any kind of virus, the week will also be the week.