When Eric presented me with the Spotlight Student instructions after school on Friday, I skimmed through them quickly. Then, telling myself that I had two days to help him get his things together, I pushed the task aside. Now it was Monday morning and I needed to print out ten photos in less than ten minutes and get Eric out the door in time for school.
Emily (5) sat in the middle of the living room floor pushing her shoes on. I rushed to the laundry room and dug through the basket of clean clothes. Her snow pants were at the bottom. I ran back to the kitchen and picked up her boots. As I shoved everything into a bag, I called to Emily “Come on, Honey, get moving. Get your coat on.” She didn’t budge from her spot on the floor.
I piled my computer bag and purse onto the passenger side of the minivan. After more prodding, Emily finally hopped into her seat. I turned around. Where’s Beth, I wondered? I rushed back inside to find Beth (3) pulling off her coat, hat and shoes. My heart sank as I dropped to my knees to redress her. I would be late for sure.
Mondays are not my favorite. For some reason, they always sneak up on my. It’s as if my brain, which has been hitting the snooze button since five o’clock Friday afternoon, has suddenly been forced to crawl out from under a pile of warm blankets and face the cold morning air.
It’s not as if Mondays are a new experience for me. They pop up fairly regularly in my month, about once every seven days. And they are consistent. They always arrive just after Sunday but immediately before Tuesday. They are never late. You would think that by now I would have grown accustom to them and adapted my routine to accommodate their inevitable arrival.
But my brain, I fear continues to reject the idea of Mondays’ existence, despite strong evidence in their support. It’s a lot like the way Wile E Coyote’s body briefly rejects the idea of gravity just after he steps off a cliff and dangles in the air for a few moments before plunging into the abyss below. Yes, it’s almost exactly like that.
It would be somewhat less objectionable to me if we could make a few adjustments to Mondays. Beef up their marketing. Consider their product placement. Readjust their packaging. Something to make them more palatable to the average weekday consuming public.
Fortunately, I have a few suggestions.
First on my list to improved Mondays would be to address their location within the seven-day week. Monday, in my opinion, materializes far too early in the week. We simply are not ready to experience a Monday morning that early in the cycle. Moving Mondays to the day after Wednesday would be much more tolerable.
In addition, there appears to be a time disparity between Mondays when compared to Saturdays and Sundays. I’m sure you have noticed it too. While the weekends fly by like a jackrabbit, a typical Monday drags on mercilessly like a sleeping turtle. To lessen the pain, I propose taking five hours away from Mondays and allocating them towards additional leisure on Saturday. Think of the additional revenues this plan to could bring to the local taverns! It’s pure genius.
Finally, I would be much more disposed to accepting Mondays if we could just incorporate them wholly into the weekend instead of lumping them in with the work week. Hear me out on this one. There is, after all, precedent for my plan. Case in point – Labor Day and Memorial Day, despite always being on a Monday, are considered part of the weekend. My proposal is to simply extend this holiday weekend philosophy to the remaining 50 weeks in the year. It’s so simple and so beautiful all at the same time! I should win a nobel prize.
I arrived at the office ten minutes late. My computer was erupting with e-mail. An avalanche of papers were spilling off my desk. My phone was thundering in the receiver. As I sat down to begin my day I wondered what would happen if I put up a sign on my office door that read “This Monday has been cancelled due to inclement weather.”
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