It probably wouldn't matter if I had a job that I enjoyed. As it stands however, to wake up on a surprisingly sunny morning happily thinking to myself "Ah, I'll just have another couple of hours in bed before having a leisurely breakfast and going into town" before the realisation dawns that I've got to be up, dressed, shaved and in my car among the rush-hour in central London in 10 MINUTES is a major, MAJOR bummer!

However, the occasions on which I wake up on a Saturday believing it to be a Monday present me with enough of a feeling of euphoria to counteract the vomit inducing feeling imparted on me by the former affliction.

These feelings have been with me since I first started school save for my college years when every day of the week presented me with little anxiety and a short period in my last but one job where I actually enjoyed it.

My goal in life is to enjoy every day in equal measure but I fear that until I find a new job I am at the mercy of my inability to instinctively know the day of the week.