He wouldn't mind at all, having his feast day moved four days up to make way for Holy Week. His life was always being moved this way and that for the sake of the redemption.
One of my favorite little stories about St. Joseph is an imaginative retelling of the Harrowing of Hell on that first Holy Saturday. The dimness is suddenly pierced with unaccustomed brightness, and the holy souls of a thousand ancient civilizations draw back in fear. They have seen newcomers arrive before, but never like this. Demons flee in literal "pandemonium." A wide space opens up and the majestic figure of a crucified Man appears. Everyone takes just a few more steps back. Seers, sages, prophets, mystics: they all cower. All except for one humble figure. He is a Palestinian carpenter. You can tell by the strong hands, the sawdust on the robe. He comes forward, and approaches the royal visitor with comfortable familiarity.