There’s something about a Monday. There’s the promise of a fresh, new week, one which hasn’t yet devolved into should-have-dones and was-that-worth-its. It’s a day when you can imagine doing something new, something different.
And then there’s Monday’s flip side, the feeling that it’s another long stretch ahead, with the time blocks already colored in in places, routine as inevitable as the sunrise.
It’s as though it has two personalities, the open one, ready to tackle problems, ready to start anew, and the groaning one, the one that always says, when your eyes pop open and it’s no longer Sunday, “Here we go again.”
Monday has a burden, though. It always has to go first, and while that can be a benefit–it gets you at the highest energy point–it also means it always gets the grumbles.
I mean, think of Garfield and his hostile attitude to Mondays.
So I’m taking this Monday as the fresh kind, as the opportunity kind. Next Monday, though, all bets are off.
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