I’ve come to like Mondays.
But I didn’t for a long time. Oh, no.
Mondays felt like a needy, clingy ex-boyfriend that I had to treat with civility out of guilt, coming around with a regularity I could barely tolerate. Forced smiles, genuine grunts, eagerly ushering him out the door.
Mondays felt like those flies that swarm the spread while dining al fresco on a warm Sunday afternoon. Somehow, they manage to land on my plate no matter how much I swat and shoo.
Mondays felt like the mandatory cleanup after a really fun party. Lysol and Advil to the rescue with fingers crossed that one or the other would work.
These days, not so.
These days, I look forward to Mondays.
Monday feels like a chance for an encore if the previous week was great. If it was lackluster, Monday feels like a second chance. And who, prideful posturing or pitiful puffery aside, doesn’t want a second chance?
Monday feels like a shot at getting it right. Instead of going through the motions, Monday feels like a day made especially not for re-packaging old and tired goods but for re-purposing the existing into something innovative and exciting. It’s not a temptation to re-write history and the facts (as some political candidates seem to feel is justifiable bazillion-dollar strategy for winning an election) but rather an invitation to write a new page, a new chapter in the story still unfolding.
Monday feels like the renewal of a vow, a re-commitment to all that I once believed in and still do. It’s just like saying,
“Here I am. Again. I know about the knocks and blows that come from left field. I know about the searing pain I’d rather not feel or inflict upon anyone. I know I’m flawed, in progress, mere mortal with traces of diva-goddess delusions. Nevertheless, here I am. Still standing. Still breathing. Still.”
Monday? Show me what you’ve got.
What do you like/loathe about Mondays?