I’ve never really been one of those “case of the Monday’s” people. In fact, my personal weekly timeline runs thusly:
Monday – Not so bad. You’re only a day past the weekend. Coasting on weekend fumes, even.
Tuesday – Well, still, only a couple days past the weekend, and nobody’s complaining about Monday anymore.
Wednesday – Middle of the week! You’re gonna make it! It’s all a slow slide into the weekend, now.
Thursday – Friday Eve. Enough said.
Friday – Is this even a day? It never feels like one to me. More a chance to ramp up my to-do lists for the weekend.
So, as you can see, I apparently put all my living towards two days out of the seven allotted to me each week. Not really, of course. I’m really, really busy, and there’s no way I could get by that way. But I can always look forward to the stretch of hours over the weekend, where I can apply butt to chair and write without needing to do anything else.
I’m still a little slower on Monday. It takes me a few extra minutes to write up the Tower of To-Do, and I maybe gaze blearily at the internet for a bit longer, wondering what sort of fuckery the week is waiting to unleash upon us. But I don’t dislike the day itself.
Nope. I dislike having to put on real trousers and leave my nest. There’s just far too much “world” out here. I’m not a fan. I think I could manage it a bit better if I didn’t have to deal with the pants.
Ah well. The best thing about Monday is that Monday night is Writing Night. And the best thing about Monday afternoon? Totally Music Monday: