Ahhh Monday, I loathe you. The beginning of a new week. The jolt out of bed after a meandering lazy Sunday. The sun shines brighter through my window on Mondays, I am convinced. And my alarm clock (i.e. roomie Sara) speaks louder than usual. The world, in my opinion, is a much darker place on Mondays–the week seems so long and the days I love (Th, Fr, Sa, Su) seem so far away. And for that reason, I loathe Monday.
Today was a typical loatheful Monday. Monday woke up with a serious case of bitchiness and I spent several hours trying to calm Miss Monday down (Monday, personified in my opinion, is an angst filled, mouthy, materialistic high schooler–a little prima donna). Miss Monday wasn’t having it. Threw a fit and spit on my shoes. Honestly, work this morning was disasterous. If I said it didn’t force a few big heavy sighs and mumbled curses and lots of inside crying, I would be lying. I hate Monday.
Monday misery loves company. Which is why, when I called my dear friend Kara, I felt relief. Her first full sentence (after venting about the struggles of her inability to find the margins tab on the new Microsoft word) was–I believe you mentioned wine on my deck tonight, right?! Duh. What else would a gal do with a lousy Monday. Comfy shorts and a big glass of red. Monday, you don’t seem quite so bad after all. Just kidding. I still hate you, but the wine helps.
Anyone else? Anyone?