I woke up Saturday morning and had that “What day is it?” conversation in my head. “Is it Friday? No, I just worked all afternoon yesterday, yesterday was Friday, that means today is SATURDAY! HOORAY!!” Yes, the internal dialogue goes like that. Often! Unfortunately a similar dialogue occurred this morning, but with a much different result. “What day is it? Sunday? Oh, crap. It’s fucking Monday.”
Monday means 9 am personal training. It means going to work straight after training. It means being absolutely shattered all day. The first thing I did this morning was look out the window. Beautiful clearly blue skies. Of course. Of course it would rain all weekend and then be beautiful on Monday. In what universe is that fair?
Despite the crappy weather, we managed to get a crazy hectic busy weekend in anyway, including about 6 hours at the local shopping centre (always fun weeks before Christmas, and with an antsy 4 year old. Seriously!), a couple of hours at a 5th birthday party (when on earth did we start going to *5th* birthday parties?!), a trip to Christmas Galore (the most awesomest Christmas shop around), a little roller derby action (watching, not playing!), santa photos, and a few hours of work thrown in for good measure.
The only redeeming quality Monday has any more is that it is kind of my Friday, in that I have the next 2 days off. Things look a whole lot better towards the end of the day on a Monday. And tomorrow morning I will wake up and have that internal dialogue again, and I will smile to myself, because it’s Tuesday. My day.