Her favorite day was Tuesday. For no real reason whatsoever. She had simply been alive for more Tuesdays than any other day of the week. When she took into account time changes, leap years, and time zone discrepancies due to travel she had been alive for more Tuesdays. Isn't that what should make a day your favorite? Isn't life so precious that your favorite day shouldn't be defined by a list of feelings, emotions, or activities that happen to occur on a certain day? Her friend said plaintively that she preferred Fridays because they were the start of the weekend. Oh dear God, does she have no respect for her life? She hasn't lived for more Friday's so why in the hell would they matter? I once heard 10 to 12 men say that life was the most precious gift. Shouldn't we take this to heart? She did the math at her desk on a Wednesday reflecting on the previous Tuesday. On the Wednesday as she sat at her desk she chose to look back at the Tuesdays with renewed fervor. Focusing on the Tuesdays allowed her to accept the droll ineptitude of those around her. Those who failed to knowledge their own favorite days. She looked at the wide eyed unblinking neighbors selfishly absorbed in their respective work stations.... Suddenly, she felt the carpet beneath her face, and a sharp pang in her left shoulder. She had fallen asleep and fallen from her desk chair. Shame blanketed her being. She looked around and no one had even noticed. She logged back into her computer, tilted her head slightly to the right peering at her calendar realizing it was once again Tuesday.