The Best Thing About Mondays (Excuse my Sarcasm)

I am not a fan of Mondays. Mondays never like me back either.

In as much as I want to make the first the day of the week (although technically Sunday is) a good start, I always fall short of the energy to wake up to it at the right side of the bed. The thing is, I love mornings, but waking up to mornings I love is a struggle I put up with every single day-double the trouble waking up on a Monday.

Why are Mondays not for me?

1. Monday comes the day after a supposed to be Me-Time Day but never is. Sunday is the only time I can sleep without an alarm clock set to remind me that I have to get moving because a very busy day is ahead of me. However, with kids wanting to spend time with me and a warm cup of coffee to bribe me into it, how could I oversleep as planned? I can also be lucky if there are no family gatherings or school functions set on Sundays, but most often than not, there are, so I end up being all over town rather than reclining at the comfort of my sofa or bed, having the time of my life wandering aimlessly to some dreamland that I never visit. Then comes Monday to absorb my battered soul, and you can finish the statement what happens next.

2. Monday summarizes the week’s to-do list. No week is ever light for me. I always have something to start, catch up with or finish. I set the standard for horror on a Monday as I list down the things I have to do but I never do, or at least start doing but never sustain accomplishing. Since I am too soaked in my own miserable weekend, I create a bad mentality that makes Mondays horrifying when they are not supposed to be. Most often than not, I never get to accomplish my to-do list because I end up having several to-do lists apart from the original one because of my mindless approach to goals. I am a pro in procrastinating. Even if there is coffee to fuel the day, I still end up putting off current and important matters of the week to work on matters that are not important until next week or so. Still it can’t be considered waste of time and effort though, because I do work on things, but I am having trouble meeting the urgent. Monday is the start of a week of things to do, but I seem not to have enough days of the week to do them. Please do understand why I greet Hell-o Monday then.

3. Monday hates me. I reach out to Mondays with a clear mind. light heart and sweet smile all the time. Believe me, I really do. But each time I try to be nice, the thought of Mondays to be demanding makes me a lunatic. I have tried forgetting Mondays ever existed, skipping Mondays, being useless on a Monday, but none of which worked. I still could not hide from the monster that is Monday and I end up with a bad hair day to start with and a bad day in totality. Mondays give me untoward accidents, sudden problems, unforeseen troubles, countless worries—I can’t even imagine how many pranks of life can happen to me in one day. Although I find consolation on a cup of warm latte, still coffee turns bitter when I am reminded that I have no power over my Mondays.


The best thing about Mondays though, they only come once a week, and I have the other days of the week to redeem myself from the mud of jokes Monday dips me into and to prepare myself for more horrifying adventures Monday is going to challenge me by.




Oh Summer Solst…

Oh Summer Solstice! “Whatever is dreamed on this night, will come to pass.” William Shakespeare – Acknowledging the Magic of This Time A Mid-Summernight’s Dream

Just another lazy day. Only longer. But that it is supposed to be longer, that too, I was too lazy to recognize. For my type who is always up to finish something, be it a current task or a backlog, for my type who doesn’t get enough sleep at night and dreams of longer days to make up for that, for my type who is a wisher for slower mornings so I can have a more intimate affair with my cup of latte and not that, in most normal days, sip in coffee like it were some kind of drug or vitamins to fuel me to get going, for my type who is, for short, lazy and incompetent, I could use a longer day. And so I am a fan of summer solstice. The idea of the sun’s zenith being farthest from the equator and the day going further than the usual time the sun is supposed to set, seems like an ideal day to have an illusion that I can actually make up for all the other days I seem not to have 24 hours in a day. Even by a slight chance of illusion, I must admit I need a longer day for all the things I cannot squeeze into my normal day. But there is only one day for the summer solstice I guess, if my information is right, and I am hopeless to hope I could have more. The truth that is painfully funny is, one summer solstice day was just even enough for me to forget that the day is supposed to be longer  and I ended up spending it like another normal inadequate day for me to be both busy and lazy. Oh summer solstice, to me you are but an affair. Now let me kiss you goodbye.   ( )