Happy Monday!

It’s probably cliché to sit here and ramble on about how loathsome Mondays are to me, but it hit me sometime this morning as I drove to the office how much I hate them and how I never take the time to think about hating them or why. To make matters worse, I’ve had two people approach me this morning and say, “Happy Monday!”

What?! What’s that about? No one ever comes over to me and says "Happy Monday," but the one Monday I spend my twenty minute drive thinking about how much I hate Mondays two people come up and say that to me? What is this, some kind of bad joke?

To make matters worse, one of them was the same person who said, "Happy Friday!" two days ago! I guess I shouldn’t be annoyed when someone says Happy Friday, but, right now, I can't help it. Want to know why? Because it’s pointless. Don’t tell me Happy Friday when you’re the same person who’s going to come up to me and say Happy Monday two days later! Fridays and Mondays aren’t even in the same ball park of happiness so they can’t both be happy!

Please, people, please…

Anyway, I decided that I hate Mondays mostly because it’s like ripping a stream of morphine from my vein and forcing me to get up and put on the face I hate to wear the most – the business face. All weekend long I’ve been allowed to dress and talk and act the way I want, and suddenly I have to wear what the proverbial they tell me to; I have to speak the way they think is acceptable; I have to think the way they pay me to; and I have to weigh in to their standard of success. This isn’t new, this is stuff we all do, regularly, it’s just that by Tuesday through Friday we've grown numb to it again. But after two days off, Monday flies in like a bad hangover with or without the pleasurable party the night before, like the unhappy jerk back into reality from the greatest of dreams – Free To Be.

Happy Monday… please… More like, Happy Reminder That This Is The Start Of Yet Another Week That You Don’t Get To Face As The Writer You Keep Thinking You’re Supposed To Be.