I Got the Monday Blues.

Mondays are Mondays, no matter where you live. I greet Mondays with roughly the same level of enthusiasm that I reserve for dealing with photocopier paper jams or cleaning out the fridge. After two glorious days of freedom (plus a little extra, since I tend to count Friday evenings as weekend time), I wake up on Mondays facing a 33.75 hour work week filled with flourescent lighting and somewhat mundane responsibilities. I'm not complaining, but thoughts that I am not cut out for the Monday to Friday nine-to-fiver cross my mind far more on Mondays than they do on other days. I'm just not that into it.


Mondays are getting harder and harder to face as the weather has gotten better each week. At least during the dreary weeks in January, February and March, we could justify "home" weekends, full of movies, fort-building (well, maybe not, but we could have), and general laziness. By the time Monday rolled around, there was a small part of me looking forward to getting out of the house and reintegrating back into civilization. But with the warmer weather has come an onslaught of activities, all of which seem to be begging us to commit ourselves (and our weekends) to them...and we don't mind a bit. Friday afternoons are now spent at one of the larger local hotels for their infamous "Happy Hour". We walk down each Friday, buy our overpriced drink tickets, and mill around in a crowd of hundreds of other office escapees, comparing relative workloads and admiring the gigantic private yachts that dock alongside the hotel. Legend has it that Happy Hour is only the beginning of a true Friday night on the island, which goes on to include at least 2 other local venues and ultimately ends in drunken pandemonium. Needless to say, Kurt and I have only made it through Stages 1 and 2 so far...we're aiming to make it to the finish line at least once this summer. I suppose it would be a lot easier to do if either of us were big drinkers...which we're not.


We spent yesterday afternoon laying in the sand, swimming periodically to cool down. My major concern was whether or not I would successfully even out my blotchy tan on my left arm. So, is it any wonder that when Monday rolls around, marked by the easy listening radio station on the alarm clock, I stay in denial (and in bed) for as long as possible?

Weekends, when you think about it, can be traumatizing for the system. You work hard (well, maybe not hard...but I do work) all week and are then presented with two glorious days to do with what you like, only to find that Sunday evening comes around far too soon and before you know it, you are back at your desk at work, longing for your next escape. And I don't even hate my job...my job is entirely pleasant.

I have been working the nine-to-five for years now...you would think that this would get easier.

1 comments:

Heather said...

I know what you mean!

I don't even have to leave my house to get to my office and it's still hard to face Mondays.

Today I eased into it by dropping by one of my stores, checking the ad stock while sipping on some Starbucks. I have to say...it makes Monday morning a little more reasonable.

I wish my weekend had been filled with beach going! It's still not quite warm enough here...though it was strangely muggy yesterday.

I need a tan more than you can imagine.

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