Monday. The day after Sunday. The day after the day after Saturday. The day that means our freedom is over and we have to go back to doing whatever we were doing before the freedom commenced.
I hate Mondays.
Every Monday comes with an unwanted need to sleep, a hangover from living life with no rules, and a countdown to Friday. We become robots for five days as we go through the same motions on a day to day basis. We wake up, go to work, maybe go to the gym if we don’t have to stay at work all night, go to sleep, and do it again. We, like, sometimes don’t even have time to eat (but that’s a good thing).
When Friday rolls around we celebrate the fact we don’t have to work the next day. We do this by drinking, dancing, and smiling (things that rarely happen during the week). But sometimes we are so tired from the week’s horrific events (coughworkcough) that we don’t have the energy to celebrate. Instead we rest by watching movies that are on TV such as Titanic and eating pizza because we are too lazy to cook. We then waste one weekend night on being lame and therefore have only one night to redeem ourselves: Saturday.
After Saturday is over though, it’s already Sunday. Ugh. We now have one day to sober up and accept the fact we have to work tomorrow. We sometimes participate in Sunday Funday, but rarely get to because of the impending doom that is upon us (aka Monday). We have so much to do – and we can’t get anything done during the week – so we have to cram it into one weekend. Yes, our far too short two day weekend where we must find time to both rest and party. BUT IT’S SO HARD.
Come Monday, we are so worn out from trying to do too much in one weekend that we struggle. All day. We snooze for like an hour after our alarm goes off the first time, meaning no shower this morning. We eventually somehow force ourselves out of bed, feeling dizzy as we walk to the bathroom, giving us a limited time to get ready. We then head out the door to work with a large frown on our face. We stroll in a few minutes late and catch ourselves dozing off a few times during the day in our cube. We then head home to hopefully struggle at the gym. After, we make a healthy dinner because we feel like fat shits from the amount of food and alcohol we consumed the past three days. And then we get in bed, watch the news (or at least I do), and go to sleep to only to wake up and get back to the boring, tiring grind… until Friday. The only difference between each day during the week is our level of happiness, which builds up as the week goes on. Meaning Monday is by far the most depressing day ever.
Mondays have always been pretty shitty. For the majority of our lives before we went to college they meant ‘back to school.’ And then in college they meant ‘back to class’ …. that is if we chose not to skip class… if we actually scheduled class for Monday… like, before noon. Mondays weren’t so bad in college. They didn’t come after weekends jam packed with our tired selves getting everything done that we didn’t get to do during the week. We actually did things during the week other than work. And we never got tired. Sleep was not in our dictionary. If we stayed in one weekend night (which we, like, never did), it was NBD because we didn’t give two shits about class meaning hello Blackout Wednesday and other casual weekday rages. Now we actually care about
work money, and we get tired, meaning our weekends are f*cked… and therefore are Mondays are even more f*cked.
Will they be like this forever? Prob. So we have no choice but to burn Mondays. Forev.
Ugh, reading this made me really depressed about Mondays. But it’s Thursday, which means tomorrow is Friday, which means our moods are almost at the optimal level. Sadly things will probably only get worse. We’ll get older, hangovers will become unbearable,and we might end up with some kids running around and stomping on whatever life was left in us during the week.
So I think we should try to live it up while we can, no matter how terrible Mondays are.