Ode to Saturdays

Saturday is an illusion. A brief breath in the overwhelming routine. A free sample of a life that could be better but isn’t

Nomad. Ex-nomad. Post-nomad. Sedentary. No matter the lifestyle, Saturday is the best day of the week. And the reason is obvious: it’s the only day of the week that we don’t work and also don’t work the next day.

Saturday should be more revered. Murals on the streets should honor it. Exhibitions, showcases, art galleries should pay tribute to it. I’ll go even further: a religion whose god is Saturday should be created —I'd be a devoted follower.

Newspaper chronicles should constantly recount events from a Saturday. Bestselling self-help books should be titled: "Be Fucking Great Like a Saturday." Newsletters on Substack dedicated to Saturdays should exist. Civic campaigns should take the streets demanding "more Saturdays, fewer Mondays."

I often tell my girlfriends, on Saturday mornings, that I am truly happy only on Saturday mornings. A desire to travel, to leave the house, to explore the world, to “send flowers to the police chief,” as Zeca Baleiro sings. To have sex wildly and spend the day in bed making love pledges. To wake up hungover and sleep until I feel as energized as a marathon runner.

Saturday is an illusion. A brief breath in the overwhelming routine. A free sample of a life that could be better but isn’t. Saturday is the realization of the dreamers’ dreams. Of a fairer world, where life is the same for the poor and the rich. No war should start on a Saturday. No illness should show symptoms on a Saturday. It should not be possible to die on a Saturday —or rather, I’d prefer to die happy on a Saturday. If there’s another life, I’d begin it in joy, not screaming.

There should be a federal law banning work on Saturdays. For seven years, while working at a newspaper, I had to work at least one Saturday a month. I was deeply depressive about missing those Saturdays. The blue sky, the smiling people in the streets, the abolition of worry. I missed the freedom felt when driving a car on a Saturday morning, heading down a road toward future memories.

I ask myself on Saturdays why Pope Gregory, who changed the entire damn calendar, didn’t just turn every day into a Saturday. I ask why no politician has proposed this. Nothing would be more popular. A single stroke of the pen, and every day becomes Saturday. Infinite re-election guaranteed. I would live peacefully under the dictatorship of Saturdays.

Once, I saw a question: "What do you think future societies will look back on and find absurd about us?" To me, the answer is clear: How did we live with only one Saturday per week? I can’t accept that we go along with this passively, without taking the streets, destroying banks, abolishing Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. Movements like the four-day workweek are emerging here and there, but they’re not enough. We need the seven-day Saturday. We can’t just live off Saturdays once every eleven months, during vacations—which are just thirty consecutive Saturdays.

One day, while walking on vacation through the streets of Buenos Aires, I wondered what life would be like if only Saturdays existed. Would we be consumed by the boredom of a monotonous, meaningless existence? That’s what capitalists want us to think. If life were one long Saturday, I would read so many books they wouldn’t fit in the Library of Alexandria. I would be some Borges character, searching the totality of human experience. I would be happy.

I write this piece I’ve always wanted to write about Saturdays on a Sunday, already missing yesterday’s Saturday. I don’t have any tattoos, but if I were ever forced to get one, I’d choose the words: "I love Saturdays." It could also be my epitaph.

If we live until 80, we will have experienced approximately 4,000 Saturdays —4,000 chances at happiness, 4,000 unforgettable days. The billionaires of Silicon Valley chase eternity. I only chase the next Saturday.

Saturdays have tastes, smells, and their own colors. Saturdays awaken all known and unknown senses. Photo by Jonathan Daniels on Unsplash