It's Monday. Just another day. I can't say I relate to people who hate Mondays. I don't mind them. I actually feel like a slug on the weekends, not getting up before the sun or working out. I do get a nice fulfilling Saturday evening when I go to the airport with my husband for eight hours and apply some much needed bum glue (that's another entry all together). But my day doesn't start until sometimes 8 or 9 o'clock! That's at least four hours later than a typical weekday. FOUR HOURS!!! I'm so ashamed...
Monday is the start of a new week. A reason to get out of bed (that, and the coffee). On Monday, General Hospital returns to my day (I just have to know what's going on in Port Charles!). Monday's are days of accomplishment--they set the tone for the week. If I can pry my lazy butt out of bed on time on Monday, I'm more likely to do it again on Tuesday.
Don't get me wrong--I don't wish every day were a Monday. I like wednesday's and Thursday's much better (Those are Nick's nights off). But Friday is sort of a deadline day. I've got to get everything done by then--after that, it's hopeless. The lure of the weekend is far too strong (the lure of my husband is far too strong!).
So, here I am at another Monday--and I'm already ahead!