I Don’t Miss You on Tuesdays

Monday, I remember How you used to call at eight,

Wednesday, I still wonder If you're coming back someday.

Thursday, I get restless,

Friday, I stay out too late,

Saturday, I tell the fellas That I'm doing mighty great.

Sunday, I make coffee For a woman who ain't there,

But Tuesday comes around And I ain't got a single care!

I don't miss you on Tuesdays,

Not a minute, not a bit!

I can sit there eating breakfast And not think of you one

whit!

Monday's got me miserable,

Wednesday's twice as blue,

But I don't miss you on Tuesdays—

Except when I do! I

cleaned out all your letters,

Put your pictures in a drawer,

Then I found that little shopping list You'd taped beside the door.

Said, "Milk and bread and coffee,

And remember Uncle Lou."

I stood there holding groceries Like a fool who'd lost his shoes.

I told myself, "Now,

Jesse, You're a man who'll be all right."

Then I set an extra dinner plate

On Tuesday night.

Maybe someday I'll stop counting All the hours since you went,

Quit pretending I'm a fellow Who's completely self-content.

But until that day arrives,

I'll keep telling folks I'm fine,

And I'll save that little Tuesday As the one that's only mine.

I don't miss you on Tuesdays,

That's the story that I tell,

And if anybody asks me,

I'll insist I'm doing well.

Monday through to Sunday,

I've got plenty to get through,

But I don't miss you on Tuesdays— I just miss you.

Every Tuesday, too.