Sunday night loomed like that bug collection project I had back in high school that I waited until the very last week to start. And it was only Friday night when I started feeling that horrible thought. Sunday nights have once again become that night that I dread as if I were still in school. But it has been way too many years since school but I still dread them.
The night was evened out with the return of My Boys, a show that unfortunately sat in DVR purgatory while I was in Nashville. I have a love/hate relationship with my DVR but I digress. I caught up on the previous season on Saturday. The thought of walking out of my apartment to go anywhere, even to the pool or check the mail seemed lost on me. So I snuggled up with the cat and caught up on PJ and her male friends. Then last night I watched the first two episodes before finally calling it a night.
But Mondays are horrible and here is why:
- I have to wait five days until the weekend
- It reminds me that while I am counting down the days until the weekend that more than likely my weekend will be filled with no plans
- The commute to work is torture, I miss my ten minute drive
- I have long since gotten out of my daily work routine
- I am reminded of how long that list of to do items is at work
- I am not a morning person, so it takes some effort to get going that first day of the week
- I pay the price of leaving my cat since he has since forgotten that I have to work to keep food in his dish
- And finally, I just plain, old hate Mondays
Even when I was in Nashville, Mondays were not on top of my most liked things. Sure, I got to catch up with everyone but still, it is a Monday. . .
Maybe I should just find that White Knight in Shining Armour, get married, have babies and stay at home. . . there is a thought! I could perfect my 50s Housewife persona. Oh wait, I don’t do housework. Nevermind.