As I walked into work this morning, the comforting thought occurred to me: Mondays suck; almost everybody thinks so.
To feel that we’re all in the same boat and that I’m not SUPPOSED to feel chipper and cheerful, that’s a comfort. Then I thought about my post yesterday, specifically how I scorned a DJ for always playing the song “Rainy days and Mondays always get me down” on Mondays. I asked myself, feel differently now? A little more understanding perhaps? The answer is no.
My bad Monday mood is a much more robust emotion than the gentle melancholy expressed by Karen Carpenter (I think she sang that song; it would perhaps behoove me to check before I hit “publish”). I’d just like to throw in a disclaimer here that I don’t hate my job. I actually like my job quite a bit. But it would have to be a damn good job to make me feel good about getting up at 3:30 in the morning after three days of sleeping in. No worries, though, now that I’ve been up for a while and the coffee is kicking in. I’m beginning to get a little of that chipper, cheerful feeling that eluded me earlier.
Oh dear, that kind of blows my Moody Musings, doesn’t it? Well I don’t know how fun it would have been to muse about a bad mood for 600 words or more (although I may try it sometime; you never know). I have another musing to share that’s been bugging me ever since I finished reading a pulp fiction detective novel I picked up somewhere: Why would you ever try to blackmail a murderer? You know they’ve killed once already: they know how. Why don’t you just put a big sign on your forehead that says, “Kill me too while you’re at it!” That I could go on for 600 words about.
But I shan’t go on for 600 words this Monday. I’ll keep it short and silly (perhaps you thought I was going to say short and sweet, but I always say go with your strengths). I’ll try for a real Mohawk Valley post tomorrow. Happy Monday, everybody!
Note: My musically knowledgeable husband Steven tells me Karen Carpenter did sing the melancholy Monday song.