Monday Here We Go Again
I hate Mondays.
They come too soon, scented with the guilt of all I failed to accomplish on the weekend. They arrive, not on little cat’s feet, but on jackboots. New ones.
I associate them with unnecessary fire alarms, burnt toast, and annoyingly hearty discussions of the weekend’s doings. And coffee breath.
Mondays bring people who’ve had all weekend to work themselves into a fit, who’ve started diets, who’ve weekend warriored (and lost) or spent a harrowing weekend dealing with their relationships. They are NOT of sound mind, and won’t return to their regular caffeinated state until at least mid-morning.
So, if you’re in the pit anyways, start your Monday right – check the obits of your city paper. Not on it? Good start.
Feeling angsty? Get in touch with your inner teen, write a little poetry here. That might make things marginally better, if only because of the cheese quotient.
Still in the pit? Check out Despair, INC.
I still hate Mondays, but now I’m laughing.