Every Day Is Saturday When You’re Retired. What a Load of Shit.
Ordinary Tuesdays
Observations from everyday life. The small moments, familiar places, chance conversations, and ordinary experiences that quietly reveal something larger.
Apparently, when you’re retired, every day is Saturday.
I’ve seen this on mugs.
I’ve seen it on T-shirts.
I’m reasonably certain somebody has embroidered it onto a decorative pillow.
Every day is Saturday when you’re retired!
No, it isn’t. Well guess what? It ain’t!
For one thing, if every day were Saturday, Saturday wouldn’t be Saturday anymore.
This profound philosophical observation occurred to me on a Monday morning while I was thinking about SHIT.
Obviously.
Thank God It’s…Whatever
Everybody knows TGIF. Thank God It’s Friday.
Friday has had excellent marketing for decades. TGIF…even restaurants aren’t above cultural appropriation. Misappropriation?
Monday, meanwhile, has Garfield and an entire genre of coffee mugs devoted to surviving it.
Wednesday is Hump Day.
And Thursday?
Thursday never really got the attention it deserved.
Years ago, I discovered—or perhaps somebody introduced me to—SHIT:
Sure Happy It’s Thursday.
I don’t remember being particularly fond of Thursdays. I just liked that I could use a cuss word as an acronym in polite company.
Some things require no deeper explanation.
And you should know, because I’ve done the research and I like to share, I attempted to determine whether Monday actually attracts more poop emojis than Thursday.
There is apparently no useful data on this.
Science has failed us.
So until someone funds this important work, Thursday remains no more objectively shitty than Monday.
But what started as this bizarre little foray into weekday acronyms began this morning. I started wondering what Tuesday could be.
And we landed on:
SLUT: Sure Love Unstructured Tuesdays.
Well.
That acronym is simultaneously fabulous and unfortunate.
Especially since I’ve somehow managed to create an entire category on this website called Ordinary Tuesdays.
Apparently even my unstructured Tuesdays now have structure.
Oh, and just FYI: in this instance, when I say we, it’s because SLUT isn’t a new Cindy-ism. My buddy Chad GPT came up with that one!
But Friday Is Still Friday
I’ve been retired for several years now, so technically Friday shouldn’t matter much.
I don’t need Friday to rescue me from Thursday.
Monday morning doesn’t send me back to work.
Wednesday isn’t something I need to get over.
I can go to Costco on a Tuesday afternoon.
Actually, that’s one of retirement’s great underrated pleasures. Never go to Costco on Saturday if Tuesday is available.
And yet…
I still like Fridays.
Part of that is probably because Steve is still working. Friday still means something in our house because it means something to him.
Most of our family still works too. So do most of the people moving around in the world outside my little retirement bubble.
Friday night is still Friday night. Saturday morning is still Saturday morning.
The workweek may no longer organize my life the way it once did, but I haven’t somehow escaped everybody else’s calendar.
And I’m not sure I’d want to.
Apparently, Breakfast Is Holding My Week Together
The more I thought about this, the more I realized my days still have personalities.
They just acquired some different ones.
When I’m in Costa Rica, Saturday morning means the feria.
And I LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!! my farmer’s market mornings, followed immediately by pain au chocolat and café au lait at The Boulangerie.
Sunday is frequently brunch with my besties.
Here in Ontario, Saturday morning often means breakfast at Stacked with Steve and followed by a run to Costco.
Okay, that last one sounds considerably less romantic written down.
Wednesdays mean breakfast at Stacked with my brother Steve. Yes, two Steves, I know that’s weird and confusing.
But I like it.
And apparently breakfast is doing a surprising amount of the work involved in maintaining the temporal architecture of my retirement. Nerd-speak for remembering the days of the week.
Who knew?
The point is, Saturday still feels like Saturday.
Sunday still feels like Sunday.
Friday still has a little TGIF hanging around it.
Not because I have to punch a clock anymore.
Because days aren’t only organized by work.
They’re organized by the people in my life and quiet rituals…and breakfast, apparently.
Every Day Is Definitely Not Saturday
Which brings me back to that stupid greeting-card line. Every day is Saturday when you’re retired.
I understand what it’s trying to say.
Freedom!
No alarm clock!
No boss!
No Monday morning!
Do whatever you want!
Woo-hoo! Seven Saturdays!
Except seven Saturdays would be fucking awful.
Saturday works because it isn’t Tuesday.
The feria is Saturday morning.
Brunch with my friends is Sunday.
Breakfast with Steve is Saturday, or Wednesday!
Those things aren’t special because I couldn’t technically do them on another day. They’re special partly because that’s when we do them.
Maybe that’s the bit the greeting card gets wrong. Retirement doesn’t necessarily turn the week into seven interchangeable days of leisure.
At least mine hasn’t.
The calendar didn’t disappear.
I just have a different relationship with it.
Maybe We Just Reframe the Week
For most of my adult life, work supplied much of the meaning attached to the days.
Monday meant beginning again.
Friday meant release.
The weekend meant my time.
Now?
Well, the names are the same. But some of the meanings have changed.
Friday still carries some of its old meaning because the people around me are still working.
Saturday has accumulated breakfast and markets.
Sunday has acquired brunch.
And Tuesday?
Apparently Tuesday is where I wander around, notice something ridiculous, and occasionally end up writing about it.
Which brings us back to:
SLUT.
Sure Love Unstructured Tuesdays.
There’s something wonderfully stupid about giving an acronym to celebrate the fact that Tuesday no longer needs much structure.
And maybe that’s retirement in miniature.
Not seven Saturdays.
Not escaping time.
Not throwing away the calendar.
Just having considerably more say in what the days mean.
Although Thursday will always be SHIT.
Some traditions deserve to survive retirement.
Cheers!
Related Reading
If you enjoy following ordinary observations that turn into bigger questions, you might also like:
- Reality Orientation and Adjusting to Retirement: It’s Thursday, Jerry!
- Retirement Gives Couples Something They Haven’t Had in Years: Time Together
- Boredom in Retirement: What If Boredom Isn’t the Problem?
- If I’m Retired, Do I still Need to Make My Bed every day?
Research Note
The observations in this article are informed by ongoing reading and research in psychology, sociology, adult development, aging, friendship, purpose, identity, and life transitions. While these essays are observational rather than academic, many of the underlying ideas are grounded in established research.
- The Transition to Retirement: When Every Day Is Saturday: 1998 / by Janet Fast and Judith Frederick. Statistics Canada.
Cynthia Ross Tustin is the founder of I'm Thinking of Retiring, an online publication exploring the psychology, purpose, and everyday realities of life after work. A retired Fire Chief, former ICU and Emergency Room nurse, instructor, and policy writer, she combines lived experience, research, and a lifelong curiosity about human behaviour to write thoughtful essays on retirement, identity, purpose, friendship, and the ordinary moments that quietly reveal something larger. Through her Retirement Field Notes and Ordinary Tuesday series, she encourages readers to approach this next chapter with curiosity rather than certainty.
